


Sins of the Past

by Unwritten98



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire, game of thrones
Genre: Angst, Death, Destruction, Dragons, Love, Multi, Sex, Sexy, Smut, Westeros, forbiddenlove
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-05-09 01:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5520323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unwritten98/pseuds/Unwritten98
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lyanna truly loved Robert and he truly loved her. Unfortunately she loved Rhaegar more. A tale of how history is doomed to repeat itself as when everyone looks at Arya, all they can see is her aunt. However Arya refuses to allow the sins of her ancestors past to determine her future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Return to Winterfell

**Ned**

It's been too long since he's been home. Winterfell stands as it has stood for hundreds of years. Escorted by the Knights of the Vale, Eddard Stark has finally returned home. After ten long years, he will be able to see his family again. He tugs at his cloak, doing his best to evade the chill of a receding winter. Spring is almost here.

"How are you feeling?" Robert reins his horse in beside his.

"Nervous. I haven't seen my family in ten years."

Robert nods, his eyes showing a rare moment of stern compassion. Unlike his younger brother, Stannis, Robert has always been a smiling and laughing boy who enjoys life. Lord Aryn used to say that Robert kept Ned from turning too stern.

"How are you feeling? You're about to meet your betrothed."

Robert grins, "Surely not before we stop by the brothel in Winter Town?"  
  
Ned fights back a smile as they spur their horses on further. There are shouts and yells as they canter in through the gates, entering the courtyard of his home. Robert is quick to dismount, handing the reigns over to the servants. Ned, however, remains on his horse a little while longer as he gazes upon the castle. Winterfell truly has not changed. The walls seem only a little smaller now that he's no longer so small. Upon the steps of the castle, his family and household stand, waiting to greet them. His mother is smiling and greets Robert warmly as he approaches and meets Neds family. Ned dismounts and joins Robert.

"Ned! Look at how you've grown. My little boy has grown so much!" The lady Lyarra exclaims, clutching her son to her. When she lets go of him, tears are streaming down her face. Before Ned can find the words to express how much he'd missed her, his father clasps his shoulder and turns Ned to look at him. "Welcome home son."

"Thank you father."

"Why so solemn, brother?" Brandon laughs as Eddard turns to him.

"It's probably that he has to see your ugly face again," A youth standing beside Brandon, jests. Ned realises that this must be Benjen. The last time he saw him, Benjen had only been three years old. Ned smiles, the familiar brotherly bond settling in, faster than he had expected it to. As his mother arranges for food for the escorting Knights, Ned notes the absence of his only sister.

"Where is Lyanna?"

"Good question." Robert rumbles.

"Off doing the same thing I'd like to be doing," Brandon sighs. Robert raises a questioning eyebrow, his mind jumping straight to fucking.

"Riding." Eddard guesses. As if to confirm his response, they suddenly hear the thundering of hooves upon the hard ground floor. Ned tries his best to hide his amusement as he watches his sister gallop into the courtyard. Men go flying as they try to jump out of her horses way. Her head is thrown back as she laughs, an easy and care free laugh, the smile on her face growing only brighter.

"Mothers not going to like that," Benjen murmurs, looking at his beloved sister.

"Has Lyanna ever really cared about what, Mother thinks?" Brandon asks. Lyanna dismounts from her steed with ease, especially as she's only wearing a pair of breeches and a tunic. Handing the reins over to a stable boy, she strides over to her brothers and her betrothed.

"Are you three quite finished? Gossiping like silly little maidens?"

"If we're the maidens, what does that make you?" Brandon asks, an easy smile playing at his lips. Lyanna bites back a bark, "A knight, of course. I've come to save you from the boredom of your own imaginations." The boys laugh whilst Lyanna embraces Ned. "It's been too long."

"Aye. It has." Robert clears his throat and Ned steps back to do the formal introductions, "Lyanna this is my good friend Robert Baratheon, Lord of Storms End."

"I know who he is." Lyanna responds, looking the youth over with her sterling grey eyes. Ned sees his friend visibly gulp as the She-wolf of the North assesses him.

"Enough of this!" Benjen exclaims, "Let's eat."

 

**Lyanna**

 

 Mother keeps shooting her disapproving looks from across the table. She hadn't had the time to get changed out of her riding clothes. Benjen had practically dragged her to the dining hall, besides, she wanted to talk to Ned rather then wasting time on such trivial things such as changing garments. Ned has changed so much. He's become a man and Lyanna doesn't know who he is anymore. They exchanged letters but not everything can be conveyed on parchment. She'd only been five when he left, but she remembers the brother that used to care for her and teach her how to run and climb.

Despite the revelry, the jokes and all the people in the room, she can feel a pair of blue eyes trained on her. Today was the first day she had met her betrothed. He is handsome, tall with broad shoulders and a strong chest. She can almost see the muscles beneath his doublet. He's tall, towering over her lithe frame. From beneath her lashes, she peeks up at Robert Baratheon. Yes, he is very handsome and she is one of the lucky ones. She could have been betrothed to a Frey. Robert gives her a roguish grin, his smile making him only more handsome. This handsome man is betrothed to her... But he wants to tie her down. Take her to Storms End to be his pretty little wife and have his black haired and blue eyed children. She's not ready for that. She's the she-wolf of the North. When she doesn't return the smile, his expression falls. He looks like he's about to say something but before he's able to, she excuses herself from the table. Lord Stark commands one of his men to escort her back to her chamber.

"Would you mind if I helped escort the Lady Lyanna to her chambers?" Robert Baratheon asks her Lord father. Rickard Stark looks less then pleased at the notion but it's Lady Lyarra that intervenes, "Of course Lord Baratheon."

As they leave the hall, Robert offers her his arm. She's tempted to chew it off but instead, she graciously accepts it as her father's man walks several feet behind them.

"Did you enjoy the feast my lord?" Lyanna asks, trying to remember the courtesies that her mother had drilled into her.

"It was a splendid feast. Soured - however - by a certain lady's reluctance to speak with me." It's quite the effort to not roll her eyes.

"I beg your pardon, my lord. I'm tired from riding and aren't in the right state of mind."

Lord Baratheon lets out a low chortle, "I was referring to the serving wench." Before she can stop it, a laugh springs forth from her lips.

"Ah so she does smile away from her horse."

"Do you ride?"

"Aye, I enjoy to hunt." This answer pleases Lyanna. If her father would allow it, she too would like to hunt but her father would never allow for her to have a sword or a bow.  She expresses so.   
"We have great game at Storms End. If it were to please my lady, you'd be able to hunt all that you like as long as it's by my side.   
Lyanna smiles, she had not considered that he would let her be her wild self. 

"Thank you, my lord for escorting me to my room." Robert bows, taking her hand and planting a chaste kiss upon the back of it. The kiss sends bolts of lightening up her arm to her spine and throughout the rest of her body. She's never reacted that way to a kiss before.  
They reach her chamber door.  
"It was my pleasure," He murmurs the words against her hand, the last word sounding carnal and full of sin. She feels her core getting warm and absentmindedly, rubs her thighs together. Robert notices, the movement as she's still wearing her riding breeches. His nostrils flare and there's less blue in his eyes as they turn dark. The man chosen to chaperone the two of them lets out a little cough, taking them out of their reverie. Robert straightens, looking into her silver eyes.

"Good night Lady Lyanna."

"Good night Lord Robert."

In the safety of her bedroom, leaning against the door, Lyanna is quick to unlace her breeches and reach down to the apex of her thighs. Her head falls back, mouth slightly ajar as she rubs the bundle of nerves. How does he make her feel this way in only a handful of seconds? Lyanna moans as she pictures Roberts long finger, reaching around her and pressing on her nub, circling it. His lips gliding along her neck, soft as the flutter of a butterfly. His tongue licking along her jawline as the other hand begins to unlace her tunic. His hand reaches in and gropes her breast all whilst slipping a deft finger into her and pressing on that one spot that makes her moan even louder.

 

 **Robert**    
  


His cock won't stop thinking about Lyanna, her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. She wanted him, he could tell. He wants her. Dammit he should just marry her tomorrow so that he can take her to Storms End where he'll be able to fuck her till they both can't move. He'll make sure that she never has to miss Winterfell, they'll come to visit Ned at least once a year so that she'll be happy. He'll do anything for her. "Where's the privy, I need to take a piss," He grunts. Really he wants to go back and make love to his future wife but he doubts Lord Rickards Bannerman would be very pleased to hear that. He tells him where to go and Robert dismisses him, telling him he can find his own bloody way to his rooms. When the man is gone, Robert turns back and heads towards Lyanna's rooms. She may be asleep. Will he wake her or should he leave her? If he does wake her, how will he do it. He'd like to do it buy burying his face between those soft creamy thighs. His cock twitches at that idea. Robert picks up his pace, almost running to her. She's his betrothed, what does it matter if she's not a virgin on her wedding day. He won't bloody care. Not when he was the one to take her Maidenhead.

He reaches her door and as he's about to knock, he hears a high pitched moan coming from the room. For a moment he thinks she's hurt but then he hears it again and the sound of her arousal is unmistakable. Robert opens the door only to find a force pushing against him.

A girly squeal and a, "Just a minute."

"Lyanna," Robert croaks, unable to find his voice. The shuffling behind the door stops and her head appears in the crack of the doorway.

"Robert."

The way his name falls from her lips, he knows what she's been thinking about, knows who she was thinking about. Her face is flushed and her hair is disheveled. Gods, this woman could bring a man to his knees with just one look. He pushes past the door, kicking it closed when he's in. He pays no attention to his surroundings as he charges in. He grabs her by the waist and kisses those soft and irresistible lips of hers. She's so small that Robert has to bend over for the kiss. Her open mouth welcomes his tongue as he explores her mouth, his tongue running along her lip. Lyanna. His Lyanna. Her hands grasp his face and she presses her small body against his larger one. This woman has him enters. Roberts hands move down to her ass, his large hands kneading the curve and eliciting a gasp and moan from her. "Robert." Her sigh spurs him on but as she begins to walk them to the bed, he realises that he can't do this. She is better then some common whore and deserves to be bedded by her husband. Gently, he untangles their entwined limbs and holds her at arms length.

"Lyanna, we have to stop."

"Why?" Her pout is driving him crazy. He wants to bite her bottom lip and then run his tongue along it.

"You deserve better. You deserved to be laid out in satin sheets and to have the luxury of screaming and moaning as loud as you want because it's not done in secrecy. The woman I love, deserves more." Lyanna scoffs and rolls her eyes, "You only just met me."  
"Why isn't that enough? No, Lyanna Stark, I've known and loved you a lot longer then today. Ned has told me everything about you and more, I've read your letters to him, the ones where you bear your heart and soul. I know you Lyanna and I love you." Lyanna only glares in response. Turning around, she climbs back into her bed, silently dismissing him. Cursing his own bloody conscience and stupid mouth, he leaves her chambers.

 The she-wolf will be the death of him.

 

**Lyanna**

 

Whilst breaking her fast, Lyanna tries to ignore Roberts hot stare. He hasn't stopped looking at her since she entered the hall. She tossed and turned all of last night, thinking about him and what he did to her, the way he made her feel. She hated it, the power he held and she loved it. Loved the feel of his large hands on her soft skin.   
"I thought we might go for a ride today." Brandon suggests, mouth full of bacon.   
"You have lessons," Lord Rickard reminds him.   
Brandon is to be lord of WInterfell one day and father has been making sure that he will be ready for when the time is to come.   
"Father, Ned only just got back. Surely you can spare one day so that I may spend time with my little brother."  
Ned looks like he's about to protest to being called little, however their father is quick to respond, "Winter is coming. You have to be ready."  
Lady Lyarra rolls her eyes, "Winter has just left. Give them a day Rickard."  
Their father hardly ever refuses their mother anything.   
"One day."  
  
They're all quick to change into their riding gear and Hodor has the horses ready for them when they get to the courtyard.   
"Thank you Hodor," Lyanna smiles, placing a kiss on his cheek. Lord Baratheon looks furious until he realises that the stable boy is a simpleton.   
They mount their horses and Brandon leads the way, exclaiming about a beautiful lake that Ned and Robert need to see. Lyanna knows about the lake. She'd swam in it many times. What Brandon doesn't know about is the private little alcove just behind the rocks and through the underwater archway.   
She watches him as they ride and notices how comfortable he is in a saddle, maneuvering the horse around rocks and ditches. Ned looks as if though everything is coming back to him and he's soon in beside Brandon, laughing about who knows what. Benjen falls back to talk to her betrothed. Bored, Lyanna spurs her horse into a canter, soon overtaking Brandon with ease.   
  
"Lyanna be careful!" Ned calls out. She only laughs over her shoulder, urging her horse to go faster. She loves this. The wind tussling her hair and biting at her cheeks as the sun warms her back. This is what she lives for. She arrives at the lake before any of the others and dismounts with ease. Tying off her horse, she begins stripping to her undergarments. She's already waist deep into the lake when her brothers and Robert arrive.   
"Lyanna! Put your bloody clothes back on!" Benjen yells.   
She shoots him a scathing look, "By the Old Gods why should I?"   
They don't normally care about her swimming in her underthings. That's when she realises that he's nervous about her being almost naked in front of Robert. She gestures to him with her chin, "He doesn't mind. He's going to bed me on our wedding night anyway! Wedded and Bedded!"  
Benjen and Brandon look shocked but Ned has a slight smile on his face. She can't read Robert however, he is breathing hard but looking at Ned, grinning from ear to ear, murmuring something to Ned that she can't hear.   
  
Ned is the first to dismount and take off his shirt, soon followed by the others. Lyanna turns away from them, her arms cutting through the water as she floats along the top. Her brothers are soon near enough to splash her but she is quick to get away. They laugh as they wrestle, Ned on Roberts shoulders and Benjen on Brandon's. Lyanna laughs as Benjen topples from Brandon's shoulders. The boys cry out in victory and she takes the moment to swim further away and get behind the rocks. Taking a deep breath, Lyanna dives into the water and towards the little arch, swimming underneath and then quickly back up to breathe. Looking up at the blue sky above, she smiles to herself and does several laps around the alcove.   
"Is this where you come to be alone?" A deep voice asks behind her. Lyanna doesn't bother turning around to know that it's Robert.   
"My brothers won't be happy if they think we're alone together."  
She faces the rocks, not wanting to look at him. She'd watched him take off his shirt and the image still scorches her mind. The lines and ripples along his stomach, proving how strong he is. She can feel him swimming closer to her.   
  
"I don't care."  
"They'll kill you."  
"No they won't."  
"Ned might be your best friend but he'll draw the line at you touching his sister."  
He's behind her now, his big hands right on her hips.   
"You didn't want to draw the line last night."  
She turns around to yell at him, only to see his eyes burning with desire. It makes her feel hot all over but disturbs her a little.   
  
"I am beautiful," she blurts.   
Robert grins, his eyes tracing the outline of her body, "Yes you are."  
"I have such nice tits," she pushes them up against his chest.   
His hands come up to brush the tops of them with his thumb, sending tingles of pleasure through her body, "They're glorious."  
"My hips are nice and round, perfect for bearing children."  
One hand starts stroking her nipple through her wet underclothes - driving her mad - as the other strokes the side of her breast, down to her hip and rests on them. His eye's are black with passion.   
"My ass would look perfect for you as you fuck me from behind."  
He stutters, "Ly-ly-Lyan-na."  
"I'd make a perfect little wife."  
"Mmmm."  
  
The slap to his face is quick and swift. He lets go of her and she swims a couple of feet away.   
"I am not some breeding mare. You left my chamber last night saying I deserve better so treat me better!" Lyanna yells, furious with him. Who does he think he is, following her around so that he can get her hot and bothered then walk away?  
Robert looks just as furious if not more. Ours is the fury indeed.   
"Am I not allowed to desire my betrothed!" Robert shouts and she's relieved that the walls of the alcove rise so high so that she can be reassured that her brothers won't hear them.   
"You didn't want me last night!"  
"I was trying to do the right thing woman!"  
"Then what are you doing here?"  
"I don't know, I just wanted to be with you!"  
  
She stops and looks at him curiously, "Why?"  
For the first time since she got off her horse yesterday, he looks at her with something that's not desire.   
"I want to know you."  
She smiles and takes his hand in hers, "Then get to know me."  
They stay there a little while longer, talking and swimming circles around each other. She tells him about her love of horses and even admits that deep in the Godswood where no one goes, she has a patch of winter roses growing. She cared for them since she planted them when Ned left. Robert asks her to show him and she promises to do so. They discuss the gossip of the houses and latest tales of the brave knights. Lyanna notices the great appreciation Robert has for Ser Arthur Dayne as he expresses his interest to be a great warrior. As it gets cooler, they swim back under the archway and join her brothers. Ned gives them a stern look but Lyanna swims over and plants a kiss on his cheek, warming him and causing him to smile.   
  
They eat the food that the kitchen had prepared for them and as Ned and Brandon play a game of cyvasse, Benjen watches intently. Robert takes her hand and drags her a little further away but makes sure that Ned can still see them.   
"You told me that you like to hunt."  
Lyanna nods, interested to see where this goes.  
"What about sword play?"  
"I'm not allowed."  
He grabs two long sticks and throws one to Lyanna, "How about I teach you?"  
She grins and stands in the same way she has seen Benjen and Brandon stand. Robert shakes his head, chuckling softly and gently moves and adjusts her so that she's standing properly.   
  
"I'm going to teach you to defend yourself."  
She grins like a wolf and slowly Robert begins to teach her some steps. She feel her brothers watching but she doesn't care.   
Her lessons with Robert become a daily thing. Brandon's lessons keep him in Winterfell but once Ned and Benjen are free, they ride down to the lake where Robert teaches her how to fight with a sword, shoot with a bow and throw a spear. One day, the four of them even went on a little hunt and Lyanna proudly caught herself a rabbit and skinned it herself. That night they slept under the sky and ate their game. No one protested when Lyanna slept tucked in at Roberts side. 

 


	2. Coming Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten years have passed since the beheading of Lord Eddard Stark. Jon has been legitimised by Dany as a Targaryen, after learning his heritige from Howland Reed. Melisandre brought him back to life, she believes that he is Azor Ahai. Arya helped Daenerys take back Kings landing and was able to find Sansa. She's now returning to Winterfell which is being ruled by Brandon Stark.

**Lord Brandon Stark**

The winter is cold. Bran is bundled in all his furs and cloaks but can still feel the bite of winter, especially this late in the night. Despite the best efforts of the builders, they weren't like Bran the Builder and failed to run the hotsprings through the walls as they once ran, and no longer are the walls as warm as they used to be. The fireplaces however, are bigger as are the hearths. Bran sits at his desk, overlooking the records and reports of Winter Town. However, no matter how much he forces himself to concentrate, he cannot keep his mind off Arya. What will she be like? He no longer remembers what she looks like and Rickon has trouble even remembering her at all. When he heard that she'd been amongst those that helped the Dragon Queen reclaim the Iron Throne, he thought he'd weep from joy. 

Their broken family may not be so broken after all. 

Leaning back, Bran closes his eyes and focuses on his direwolf, Summer. He can smell raw meat coming from inside the kitchen but despite all his scratching on the door, the creatures inside, will not let him in. He's hungry, despite eating only hours ago, he needs more. Ever since the snow had begun to fall after they'd returned to this place, they'd fed him less, relying on his ability to hunt his own food except he can smell the meat right there and he wants it. His nails dig into the wood as he drags them down the door, howling at the surface. Growling he turns away and tries to find food somewhere else. As he sniffs at the snow, his nose picks up the smell of water, horses and men. Making his way out of the courtyard, he hears the call of his brother. Lifting his nose, he takes another whiff, recognising a faintly familiar scent. 

'Could it be?'

He sniffs again. 

'It is.'

"Arwooooooooooooo!" 

His howl greets the night and welcomes the familiar stranger that approaches the castle. He pounds against the snow, running past the gates and outside of the walls of the castle to the carriage, the men on their horses and the girl upon hers. The horses are startled at the sight of him, some of them rearing up. The men try to settle them, some even pointing weapons at him. The girl however grins, dismounts from her horse and runs to him, wrapping her arms around his furry neck. 

"Lady Arya get away from that beast!" One of the men cries. He doesn't understand the meaning of the noises but the cry of alarm makes him uneasy. Is there danger? Can he protect her? The girl strokes his fur, gently reassuring him. She smells like pine needles, dirt, sweat and death. The girl scratches behind his ear and under his chin. He's happy to sit their and be spoilt by her. Instead she rises and steps away. He whines, trying to indicate that he doesn't want her to leave. The girl gives him a smile before returning to her horse. She leads the horse alongside the rest of the men and continues the walk back to the castle. He makes several attempts to walk beside her but her horse is upset by his presence. 

"My lord, the party escorting your sisters has arrived earlier then expected."

Brans eyes flutter open to find one of the household guards before him. 

"Thank you. Make sure my brother is there to greet them."

"Yes my lord."

The man leaves and Bran is left to manoeuvre his way out of the room on his own, the way he prefers it. The months he spent getting carried around by others, have made him reliant upon his own independence. A maester had suggested that he have built a chair with wheels so that he may move around the castle. When he took back Winterfell, he took the room closest to the main hall and asked that the furniture be arranged so that there's enough space for him to move about. Bran wheels himself out of the room and makes his way into the courtyard. After they left seven years ago, Arya and Sansa will finally be home with him. 

Bran comes across some steps which he has difficulty with. He's still adjusting to this mode of transportation. Thankfully Rickon comes down at the opportune moment. Not saying a word, his brother helps him down the steps. 

"Bran, I'm nervous." He admits and Bran doesn't blame him. Rickon had practically been a baby when their family had left for Kingslanding, he barely remembers Robb or father. Bran remembers. He remembers the family that they once had before it had been torn apart by the Lannisters. He could kill them, rip out their throats and crunch on their bones. 

Its cold outside and despite all the furs, the cold encases him and traps him in its kiss. Bran and Rickon watch as the escort party fills the courtyard.   
He see's Sansa first, all his focus aimed at the carriage. Stepping out of it, Bran doesn't see the girl that left Winterfell all those years ago. If he'd ever had the chance to become a knight, he would have cut down the monsters that marked her face with scars and welts. However, despite her appearance, she stands tall, with her head high. She has been through her trials and come from them a different but stronger woman. Wrapped in a Stark grey cloak she approaches her brothers.   
"Bran," His name falls from her lips like a secret that she refused to utter. Her blue eyes fall upon Rickon, who is no longer the child that she knew. He watches as Rickon looks upon the stranger that he does not know, the sister that he barely remembered that he had. He's stuck in place, not sure if formal curtesies apply or if he should embrace her. Bran wishes he had use of his legs so that he could embrace his sister. Sansa takes in upon herself to embrace the boy, a single tear freezing upon her cheek.   
  
A shadow appears behind her, so swift and lithe that Bran almost hadn't noticed it approach, he wouldn't have if it hadn't been for his third eye. Torchlight falls upon the face and Bran finds himself looking into a pair of familiar eyes. She looks upon him in his wheelchair and a wild growl escaped her throat, "I wish I could have ripped off Jaime Lannisters legs and fed them to his lover."  
The violence in her doesn't surprise Bran. He's seen what she's done and the thing that she once had to become. No one. Except that she doesn't have to be no one, not anymore.   
"Arya!" Sansa exclaims, breaking away from Rickon to look at her sister in disbelief.   
"Don't get me started on what I wish I could do to Bolton," She snaps.   
Bran would happily listen to what Arya wants to do to the Bastard of Bolton, he would gladly like to do it himself.   
Sansa kneels in the snow before Bran so that she may clutch his hand.   
No more words are exchanged and they make their way inside. Just as Rickon wheels Bran back inside, he looks towards the forge and wonders if he should tell Arya tonight  However, a selfish part of him wants to keep his sister to himself, just for one night.

 

**Arya**

 

It's changed. The layout is the same but the bricks are different as is the furniture. This isn't the Winterfell in which Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catlyn Stark, ruled over. This isn't the castle she'd grown up in. The stones in the steps aren't the ones she'd tripped over and grazed her knees till they bled because she'd been careless whilst chasing Jon. No, her home was re-built by the Boltons. Bolton men laid things bricks and Boltons made this castle her home. It looks like Winterfell but there are too many fresh graves in the crypts. It took them too long to finally be able to bury their family members. 

Suddenly the crowds screaming for blood, jostling her around and her fathers head is rolling in the dirt. 

Arya fights back the feeling of sick and instead, accepts the spiced, warmed mead that Rickon -is that really her baby brother - had handed her. She's not sure what this room is but they're in front of a  fireplace and it's warm. Sansa sits beside her, clutching her mead like its a shield. Rickon takes a seat across from them, next to Bran whose in some strange chair that's designed like a cart. She can feel Bran examining her, watching her every move. It's unsettling. 

They all want to ask. Are the rumours true? Did Sansa consummate her marriage with the Imp? How did she escape Kings Landing? Did Theon really burn two innocent kids? Did Bran really go beyond the wall? Did Arya really become a killer? Rickon is the only one who doesn't have secrets. The entire realm knows the story of the brave wolf of the North. Most people wouldn't be able to see what Arya sees, but just in the way he sits, it's clear what he's capable of. Stark men are rarely the bulky type. Rickon had grown tall, grown a beard similar to Robs and developed muscles bigger then both Jons and Robs. 

Her little baby brother had killed, he'd led the banner men and taken back Winterfell and the North, kept it safe till Bran returned from beyond the wall. He'd been only twelve when he'd done it. An incredible and unbelievable feat. He displayed a cunning and guile that no one had previously been aware of and a penchant for blood. Arya wants to know what it's like beyond the wall. Whether he saw Jon. Instead they all sit there, not sure what to say. 

It's Sansa who finally speaks with years of lady like mannerisms drilled into her pretty head. 

"You were very brave Rickon, taking back our home."

The greatest warrior in all the realms simply shrugs and contemplates the contents of his mug. 

"Fuck sake!" Arya finally bursts out, the tension in the room making her uncomfortable. 

Sana gasps at her outburst but Bran only peers at her curiously. Arya stares her younger brother in the eyes and says what they should have the second they arrived. "I've missed you."

Suddenly all the tension is gone. Sansa is bawling and exclaiming how much she missed them all and how good it is to be home. Rickon proves himself to be rather amusing throwing out some jests to which Bran always has some witty response. It doesn't take long for Arya to find herself laughing with the remaining members of her family. Bran begins recounting stories and for the first time in ten years, Arya isn't thinking about her father as the man that was beheaded but as a man that once lived and was her father. 

"Remember when we were sure mother was going to kill us because we'd all the tarts that had been prepared for some afternoon tea that she was having with the bannermens wives?"

"Jon ate most of them!" Arya exclaims. 

"That's Prince Jon," Rickon reminds her with a chortle. 

The laughter stops and Bran is looking at Arya again. She's been the only one to see their bastard brot-cousin.

"How is he?" He asks in a quiet voice, barely heard over the happy crackling of the fire.  

"Different," Arya mutters, her head turned to look away from her family, to anything else. After she helped the Dragon Queen storm Kings Landing, she'd begun a journey to go to the wall to find him only to learn that he'd been killed. Daario advised her against her plans to go find the people that betrayed her brother and slaughter them all. However, one day, only a month ago, Jon arrived at the Red Keep but not as Jon Stark. No, as Jon Targaryen. Yes he had changed but haven't they all. 

 

**Gendry**

 

Their arrival had woken him but he hadn't dared go out into the courtyard to face her. He thought he'd never lay eyes on Arya Stark, ever again. He watched from the shadows as she allowed Sansa to first approach the Lord and then she followed. He noticed the way she moved, from heel to the pads of her feet, silently like a cat. He'd also noticed how much she's changed over these long ten years. Gendry can hardly believe that it's been that long since the Kings death. His Fathers death. Lord Brandon Stark had only looked at him and he knew that he was the bastard of Robert Baratheon. The mans powers used to unsettle him but not anymore.  

He'd watched Arya, a woman of nineteen. Gendry had inwardly groaned as be realized that she no longer looked like a boy but to him, she never had. He'd always known that she was a girl. Now no one would doubt it. Even in breeches and a tunic, Arya had a clear feminine figure. Her hair was tied back into a braid, falling down her back. She's still so small. Gendry can see himself lifting her up and holding her to him. 

Every night, he told himself that he'd failed her when he hadn't caught her. When she slipped past his fingers, his heart had lodged in his throat. He'd run out into the rain and even when the sun had risen, he was still looking, his voice hoarse from screaming out her name. He'd been sure that the Hound had killed her. Lord Beric allowed them to stay awhile longer to look for her. Gendry had then made it his mission to find her but after several weeks, they learnt that Arya Stark was dead. Killed along with her brother and mother at the Twins. Frey got what he deserved. One day they were passing through Winter Town, Lord Stark had taken back the North with some of their help. Looking at the castle, Gendry felt a need to go see the lord and to tell him about a girl he knew. 

Somehow at the end of that night, he'd found himself to be the new blacksmith of Winterfell. 

When word had arrived that Arya Stark was alive and had fought along the Dragon Queens side, Gendry hardly believed it. He refused to believe it until he set his eyes on her. Tonight, when he looked upon the woman she'd become, Gendry forgot that the war had even happened. He remembered a time when it was just her, him and Hot Pie. 

He turns in his bed and turns again, not able to find sleep. His blood pumps through his veins and the knowledge that his lady is only just out of his reach, is driving him insane. He wants to hold her, to keep her close and never let go. He should never have let her go dammit. He doesn't jump when he hears the crunch of footsteps on snow, in the courtyard. However his curiosity is piqued. Who is out there so late in the night? He throws on an old cloak that had belonged to one of the Bolton's and steps outside. He nearly stops dead when he sees Arya looking up at the night sky, the moon illuminating her face and making her pale skin glow. 

Looking away from the sky she turns to him. Her little pink mouth pops open and her eyes go wide. Lord Stark mustn't have told her that he was is the castle. Quickly surprise turns to anger and Arya storms up to him and shoves him in the chest. It not hard enough to hurt but he stumbles a little. 

"You stupid bull!"

"Arya." Her name aloud sounds like a prayer. 

"You stupid stupid bull!"

"Arya."

She shoves him again and again. 

"You're not supposed to be here, stupid! You're supposed to be between some pretty whores legs, and running around pretending to be a stupid knight!"

Gendry can't help smiling. She's alive and she's still the little spitfire that she'd always been. Her little nose is scrunched up and theirs a crease in her forehead that looks adorable. Her lips are pursed in anger but Gendry can pretend that she's pouting. Between some pretty whores legs? He'd rather be between hers. The thought makes him hot all over. No. He cannot be having these thoughts about Arya. She shoves him and this time he lets himself fall. Maybe the cold snow will do him some good. 

"Why are you here?" 

"I'm a blacksmith."

Those words seem to enrage her more. She falls to the snow and starts pummeling her little fists at him. Gendry catches them with ease and rolls them over so that he's pinning her down. 

"Arya."

"Stop saying my name like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you care."

Gendry can't stop the growl that escapes. She doesn't expect him to care. Gods grant him patience with this woman. 

"Arya I thought you were dead. I'm allowed to say your name however I want."

"Don't be so stupid."

Gods he wants to kill her. He can feel her warm body wiggling beneath him and it's driving him crazy. Gendry makes to get off of her but suddenly she's the one pinning him down. He groans as he realises that her legs are on either side of his hips, her center directly over his painfully hard cock. 

"Why aren't you with the stupid Brotherhood Without Banners?"

Gendry looks at her earnestly trying to give her the most honest answer he could. "I wanted to make Winterfell my home."

Arya punches him. She'd punched him all the time when they were younger. The difference now is that they actually hurt.

"Ow, Arya! What are you doing?"

She continues to pummel him, throwing punches at his stomach and sides and he can't seem to be able to catch her wrists. 

"You didn't want to be my family but you come to make Winterfell your home!"

"It was the closest I could be to you."

The confession startles her.

"I though you were dead. I wanted to be dead. Being here made me feel like I had a part of you with me." 

She gets off of him and Gendry sits up. 

"I've killed people."

He nods. 

"I'm good at it."

He doesn't say anything.

"I liked it." 

Gendry stands and he finds just how taller then Arya he really his. He towers over her. 

"I've killed. I'm good at it and I understand what it's like to like it." 

She wants him to see her as a monster so that he'll push her away but he just sees that little girl who'd survived impossible odds. He loves her. 

Noticing that she's shivering, he leads her into the forge. It's warm in here, it always is stifling hot but this winter it had kept him from becoming an icicle. They take off their furs and Arya wonders around the forge. 

"Can I sleep here tonight?"

"No."

He shouldn't have even brought her into the forge. He should have insisted that she go back into the castle. Gendry fears that he won't be able to control himself if she's bedside him in bed. He wants her, wants to fuck his wild girl. He'd cared for her when they'd been on the road and he'd loved her. He'd thought about kissing her but never fucking her. Not like now. 

"Don't be stupid. I wasn't really asking permission. I'm sleeping here tonight." 

Seven hells! He jaw clenches and once again he finds himself taking in her womanly figure. He won't last the night. 

"No."

"We did it back then."

"You were a child then."

"So this about propriety?"

No, this is about the fact that you're a highborn girl and highborn girls don't get fucked by bastards. Even the bastards of kings. He won't only bed her, no. He'll drill into her tight pussy until she can no longer form a coherent thought. His cock is demanding that he bend her over the work bench and work her sweet pussy.

"Yes m'lady." It comes out higher then he had intended.

She looks down at the floor. She looks so small and helpless. Gendry hates that he's the one doing this to her.

"My room smells like someone else."

Her voice is so quiet and she looks so helpless. Her room is no longer her own. Someone else had slept in it. Someone from the Bolton household had marked it as their own. 

"Fine."

He leads her to his bed. She takes off her boots and gets in. Laying a cloak upon the floor, Gendry lays upon it. The floor is hard and his bones already ache but he'd sleep on this floor for the rest of his life if Arya wished it. After a while, Gendry is sure that Arya had fallen asleep until her voice breaks the silence of the night. 

"Gendry it's cold. I'll freeze if you don't lay with me."

"Arya," He begs.

"Please." 

With a resigned sigh, he gets into the bed. Immediately she has her back pressed into his front, her pert little ass against his cock. Gendry wraps an arm around her little body and knows that he has no chance of sleep. 

She falls asleep and at some point during the most difficult night of his life she begins to wiggle. It must be a dream and it's causing her to move her body and wiggle her ass against his crotch. He groans into her ear. He can't, not if she's doing that. 

"Arya!" 

He startles her awake.

"What?"

"You're wiggling in your sleep."

"So? You snore." 

"Arya, I'm a grown man." 

"No, you're a stupid man."

"Dammit Arya listen to me! I will fuck you long and hard if you don't stop wiggling your ass on my cock!" He bellows.

Seven hells, he can't take it back now. She'll know and she'll never come see him again.

"Arya I'm sorry. I just meant that-"

He stops short as she begins to wiggle against him. Gods! Has she fallen asleep? His erection is so painful, Gendry doesn't even think when he thrusts against her ass, just once.

She moans. 

"Arya?"

"Mmmmmmm?"

"Please."

She wiggles harder. 

"Arya, you're a highborn."

She turns around to face him.

"Gendry, if you don't fuck me right now, I'll go find someone else with black hair and blue eyes and I'll just pretend it's you."

He growls at the thought of someone else touching her.

   
Grabbing her by the waist, his fingers dig into the fabric of her tunic as he brings his mouth down to hers. He moans as she darts her tongue into his mouth, sliding along his. She clutches at his hair, moans escaping her lips. Gendry needs more of her, to touch and to feel more. His fingers make quick work of the ties on her tunic and breeches, stripping her bare. A hiss comes forth as he's graced with the sight of her glorious naked body. Inches of pale and creamy skin. She lays back on the bed with a coy smile. Unlacing his breaches, he releases his throbbing cock. Gendry nearly comes undone when she licks her bottom lip at the sight of it. Gracelessly, he rubs the tip of his cock against her glistening wet pussy lips. She bucks under him, forcing the tip to enter her. Gods she's tight. Gendry braces himself above her and carefully slides into her.   
  
His shoulder is sore from laying on the floor. Reluctantly Gendry wakes from his dream to find an unsatisfied erection and Arya, fast asleep on his bed. Careful not to wake her, Gendry gets up off the floor and parts the curtain that seperates his room from the forge. He looks over his shoulder at the girl. Her little mouth is popped open and her eyelids flutter as she dreams. She's managed to splay herself from one corner of the bed to the other.   
  
Stepping into the forge, Gendry does his best to push the dream aside. The sun will be rising soon, he needs to get to work and will most likely have to wake Arya soon. But he'll let her sleep, just for a few more minutes. No matter what he dreams or what he wants, he can never have her. He may be the bastard of a king but he's still a bastard. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally we've moved onto the next generation. I hope you guys enjoyed it and I'm sorry it took me so long to post but I just kept writing and changing it until I was pleased with it. If you spot any grammar or spelling mistakes, let me know and I'll make sure to fix them.


	3. Blood and Fury

**Lyanna**

Everywhere she looks, there are different colours and sigils from all around. Tents and pavilions have been erected in the grounds of Harrenhall for the greatest tourney the realm has ever seen. Lyanna sneaks away from the noise and clutter of it all, edging closer and closer to the woods. The women are cooing over the men and hoping for their favours. No Knight has asked for hers and nor will they. She is the She-Wolf of the North, too stubborn and head strong for any man. Lyanna thinks about how much that has changed, however. Her face is no longer so horse-like. It'll never be soft and delicate like the women of High Garden or as regal as Cersei Lannister but she is beautiful with high cheekbones, a shapely and well defined jaw with a slightly pointed chin. Her hair has almost never been cut and falls down to her waist in hues of a deep wooden brown, bordering on black. She'll always be thinner and smaller then the others but she has grown into a woman now. Her hips have developed as well as her breasts. They may not be big but they're not small. She's heard Benjen talk about breasts. He likes them big and hopes to bed a hundred women before his twentieth name day.

 

She gets further away from the tourney grounds, finding herself within the Godswood. There she can hear the sounds of jeering and laughter. Mean and taunting laughter.

 "It's time to run home, kid." One voice yells.

 "He doesn't have a home. He lives in a swamp," Another laughs.

 "Can't use your spear in a jousting competition so you won't be needing this."

 She comes around a group of bushes to find three squires taunting a man that looks like he'd be Ned's age. One of the Squires snaps a spear over his knee as the other two hold him back. Lyanna recognises the man as a crannogman. More specifically, his father's vassal, Howland Reed.

 

"I think that's quite enough," Lyanna barks, stepping out from the shadows of the tree. The squires turn and behold the lady in green. Howlands expression is torn between grief and gratitude. Lyanna can imagine that no matter how much he doesn't want to be beaten to a pulp, no man wants to be rescued by a girl.

 "Now miss, we're just having a little fun. No harm innit." The squire holding both ends of the spear speaks up. The blatant lie makes her angry.

 "The fun can continue in the tourney in the competition. Unless you're all afraid to face him when it's not three to one?" One of the squires restraining Howland looks as if though he'd have something to say but chooses to stay silent. The boys let go of Howland and leave him be. Lyanna waits till they're gone before approaching Howland.

 "How are you feeling?"

 They seemed to have hit his face at least once, an awful bruise forming under his eye. He nods, looking shamefully down at the ground.

 

"Lyanna!" Ned calls, most likely looking for her.

 

"I'm here!"

 Ned and Brandon appear from the thicket of trees, looking relived to see their sister in one piece.

 "Howland?" Brandon recognises his father's vassal and wonders what he's doing in the Gods wood with his sister.

 "Some squires were being nasty to him. I stopped it."

 "You shouldn't have. I now look like a fool," Howland mutters.

 Brandon looks as if though he's about to say something, tell Howland that he should be greatful, however Ned intervenes.

 "Then you should enter the tourney and defeat the squires that wronged you so that you will look a fool no more." Lyanna couldn't be prouder of her brother in that moment.

 

  **Rhaegar**

 

 He needed some time to think, to be away from his fathers watchful and suspicious eye. The old man is on to him. He cannot slip, cannot afford to lose now. He paid a fortune to ensure this tourney would happen. A perfect way to meet most of the lords of the land and to discuss with them his plans. His father is unfit to rule, he's a danger even to himself. The entire realm can see that now. The Godswood of Harrenhall is very small, however the one in Kings Landing is even smaller. The Old Gods be damned.

 

"I think that's quite enough." A voice pierces through the air, commanding respect and obedience. Rhaegar quietly creeps through the wood to find a girl, no older then five and ten, scolding a group of squires. "...Unless you're all afraid to face him when it's not three to one?" The girl is beautiful and in a bright evergreen dress with her hair flowing down her back, she reminds him of the children of the forest. She looks wild and boisterous, like someone who could never be tamed. The squires scatter but she stays to attend to the man that the squires had been hurting. She doesn't talk down to him of treat him like a maiden. She respects that he wants to keep his dignity.

 

Voices are heard, "Lyanna!"

 

"I'm here!"

 

Lyanna.

 

So that's what this creatures name is. Two men find the pair and they speak amongst each other for a while, the new comers treating Lyanna and the man as their equals. Soon they leave, returning back to the tourney.

 

**Lyanna**

 

Lyanna is bored. Men are riding at each other with a lances aimed at the other and she is bored. Robert is having a good time, yelling and laughing along with her brothers. She's trying not to look at him. She cannot believe what nearly transpired a couple of nights ago. She hadn't been in the right state of mind when he'd come into her room. Gods she wanted him to continue. To take her Maidenhead and be done with it. He's to be her husband, what does it matter whether she's deflowered now or later. Robert will want her all the same.

 

Ever since that night, he's been showering her with trinkets, pellets he'd hunted, flowers and a bracelet he carved out of the bone of a stags horn. All beautiful gifts. He even had a wrist guard made for her so that she may practice her archery. He's been kind, doing his best to get to know her and slowly she can feel herself liking her betrothed more and more. He is Ned's best friend and she trusts her brothers judgement. Robert looks at her from above the crowd of faces, giving her a heart wrenching smile. What she wouldn't do to be alone in that room with him again.

 

The final tilt is announced. After five days of this, Lyanna is quite ready for it to be over. Ser Barristen Selmy, the greatest knight in all the realm, against Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. The crowd bustles with excitement as the girls twitter on about who will be named the Queen of Love and Beauty. Lyanna rolls her eyes. Ashara if Barristen wins and Elia if the Prince wins. It doesn't take a maester to figure that out.

 

In white armour with a white cloak attached, Ser Barristen Selmy rides out, causing the crowd to roar. Soon in colours of red and black, Prince Rhaegar appears before them, a three headed dragon emblazoned upon the chest of his armour. The two men align at their starting positions, waiting for the Mad King to start the tilt.

 

"Seven hells! End this!" He screeches, thus beginning the end to the tourney.

 

The two men charge at one another, lances perfectly aligned. They both manage to hit each other but neither are unhorsed. They ride again, this time Rhaegar strikes harder, lifting Ser Barristen off his horse. The crowd is silent in its disbelief as they watch the Great Barristen the Bold, fly through the air and land on his ass. Rhaegar removes his helm and that crowd cheers as he has won the tourney. His almost white hair flows down, past his shoulders, ending under the shoulder blades. He has it tied back in a loose braid. The girls sigh and declare how handsome he is.

 

 "No one expected him to win," Lyanna murmurs, turning to Ned.

 

"Not at first but he had done well throughout the rest of the joust."

 

Suddenly everything goes quiet. Rhaegar has a crown of blue winter roses around the tip of his lance. He has ridden past his wife Elia. She smiles, waiting for him to do a lap of the joust grounds before returning to her. Instead he stops before Lyanna, planting the roses on her lap, his violet eyes looking into her grey ones. What is he doing? Lyanna looks down at the crown, to shocked to know what to do. She can almost feel the Princess glaring at her.

 

"Thank you, your grace."

 

Rhaegar nods solemnly before cantering off. All eyes are on her.

 

"Bahahahaha!" Robert bursts out into laughter, ending the silence and beginning mutters and whispers all around.

 

"Smart man, knows how special my Lyanna is," He chortles.

 

The word, 'my' bothers her. She isn't anyone's.

 

 

 

**Rhaegar**

 

Sitting upon the bed within their tent, Elia glares at him through her almond shaped eyes. "You humiliated me," she spits, the rage of Dorne within her irises.

 

"You're Princess of Westeros Elia, what does it matter if Lyanna Stark is named the Queen of Love and Beauty?" Rhaegar sighs, running a hand through his hair. Elia scoffs, throwing her arms up and getting off the bed.

 

"Because of your behaviour, the entire realm will think our marriage is falling apart!" "Isn't it?" He quietly asks, looking into her deep brown eyes. Elia doesn't gasp and neither do tears build up in her eyes. She only glares, "Get out and don't come back until you've become a smarter man."

 

Not wanting to aggravate his angry wife anymore or wake Aegon, Rhaegar reluctantly leaves their tent. He didn't want to make Elia angry or humiliate her but over the last seven days, he'd been watching the Stark girl. He can't imagine trying to ignore his feelings for her. She is beautiful, smart and knows her way around a bow and arrow. She's everything that he used to love in Elia until she had the baby. She became a mess, crying and whimpering all the time. That fight was the first spark their marriage had had in months, maybe even years. The first time in so long that he got to see the woman he married.

 

The feast is still going strong, he can hear the jeers and hoots of laughter coming from the grand pavilion that had been erected for this occasion. Rhaegar had retired early, not standing the looks men were giving him and the way Lord Robert Baratheon slobbered over his betrothed. A wolf like that eats stags, it does not lay with them. She seems entranced by him aswell. The way they look at each other - she's clearly in love with him or at least feels an attraction towards him. They spent most of the feast leaning into one another, whispering and laughing at things they had to say. Rhaegar almost broke his goblet when he saw Robert slide a hand along Lyanna's thigh. Has he touched her there before or was it the wine that made him so bold?

 

As if his thoughts could conjure whatever is upon his mind, he sees Lyanna walking away from the pavilion, unescorted. Grasping his chance, Rhaegar quickly catches her.

 

"Where are you going at this time of night?" Lyanna doesn't jump, she simply looks over her shoulder. Realisation dawns upon her and she stops mid step to turn and bow to her Prince.

 

"Your Grace."

 

"Please, None of that bowing nonsense. You are a queen after all." She shoots him a look that he's sure would have pierced him harder then a lance if it could.

 

"Would you like to go for a ride with me?" Rhaegar asks, he's observed over the last few days that she's fond of riding. Lyanna doesn't say anything, only peers at the Prince as if he were something strange and exotic.

 

"Your grace, whatever game you are playing, I am betrothed to Lord Robert Bartheon of Storms End. I suggest you leave me be." She turns away and walks in the direction of what he must suspect, is her tent.

 

"Lyanna, wait." She pauses.

 

"I just need a good riding partner and from what I've heard, you know the lands of the North better then anyone."

 

 

 

**Lyanna**

 

She doesn't know how she managed to end up in the middle of the forest with the heir to the iron throne but somehow she had. Worse, they've been gone for hours and people could be looking for them but she doesn't care. They found a small place by a Brooke to rest their horses and have been there for what seems like years. They discussed everything from literature to the history of the seven kingdoms. Now Lyanna lays in the grass, bundled up in furs, listening to Rhaegar far play along the lyre whilst singing an enchanting song. Indeed, Rhaegar has a lovely and melodic voice. 

 

The song comes to an end and Rhaegar looks upon her as if she were a ruby amongst rocks. 

 

"May I kiss you?" 

 

Lyanna doesn't even think before the words spring forth from her mouth. 

 

"No."

This takes him by surprise and she doesn't bother to wonder why. It can't be a lot of people that refuse the future king but she loves Robert. 

"My apologies, I shouldn't have asked," Rhaegar amends but the damage is done. She looks away to the horizon and wonders what the seven hells was she thinking. Rising to her knees she says, "I should get going." 

He nods, getting up from the floor, "Let me escort you back."

"That won't be necessary."

Untying her horse, she mounts with grace and urges her horse to go before she changes her mind. The idea of being desired by a prince is intriguing, tempting her to stay and see how far she can take this. Without looking over her shoulder, she rides off. 

Robert is outside her pavilion when she gets back. 

"Thank the gods. I thought something had happened to you." Rising from the ground, he wraps her in a tight embrace. 

"Robert, I'm all right."

Placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, he strokes her back, "When I couldn't find you, I panicked." 

Placing a hand on his cheek, she reassured him, "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

 

*****

 

Lyanna thought she'd take a walk around Harrenhall before they left back home for Winterfell. The grounds aren't pretty or have any greenery, however, if you get far enough from the castle and squint, you can imagine what it used to look like.   
"I keep catching you in the woods."  
Lyanna says nothing, not bothering to turn.   
"Doesn't a prince have better things to do?"  
"Prince's are supposed to pursue beautiful maidens," he's right behind her with his hand on her waist and breath on her neck. It sends pleasant chills down her spine.  
"Married prince's don't pursue betrothed maidens." She's trying to act as if though she's not leaning into him, relishing in the feeling of his body against hers.   
  
"He's going to take you away to his castle and lock you away in one of his towers."  
Lyanna shakes her head, "He respects who I am."  
Rhaegar laughs, "Has he told you he'll let you hunt on his grounds? Will he let you be as wild and free as you desire?"  
It's on the tip of her tongue to tell him all that Robert has done for her but she can't get the words out.  
"He'll keep you trapped withing the Stormlands. At my side, I will take you to the Reach, to the iron islands and to Dorne. We will travel the Seven Kingdoms and then explore Essos. Would you like that Lyanna? To see the known world?"  
Longing for all that he promises tugs at Lyanna's heart. Maybe she can go away with the prince for a year or two... Even as she thinks it, she knows that it'll never work. She turns to tell the prince so and that was her mistake.    
  
Rhaegar leans forward, planting a soft, chase kiss upon her lips. It seems to satisfy him for only a moment before he's back for another kiss, his lips insistent upon her, demanding she opens her lips. She obliges, feeling a tightening within as his tongue slips into her mouth. He moans out his satisfaction, entangling his fingers in her hair. Lyanna grips the prince closer to her as she kisses him deeply, exploring his mouth and mewling as he bites her lip, sending a jolt of pleasure down to her core. His hands gently tug at her hair, exposing her neck to him. He plants gentle kisses along it, biting down on her collarbone.   
"Rhaegar," she gasps.   
"What have you done to me," he mutters against her skin, "in a matter of hours you have bewitched me completely."

 

"I'll go with you," Lyanna declares, having lost all sense. 

 Rhaegar growls against her skin, "What about the Baratheon?"  
"In this moment, I am with you."   
He grips her tightly in his embrace and against her lips he murmurs, "I am never letting you go."  
 


	4. Dark Words

 

**Arya**

 

The Godswood, despite all that has happened, remains unchanged. She can be nine years old again without a care in the world and with no concern for the Realm or what her future holds. The letter, crumpled in her hand, is the one thing that forces her to face the truth. She's no longer a child and her future has been decided for her.   
"I'm so sorry."  
 Sansa's voice cuts through the crisp and cold air but Arya doesn't turn to acknowledge her sister. She'd heard her approaching. Sansa knows better than anyone, what it's like to marry somebody that you don't want to. First, after their fathers death, she spent months betrothed to Joffrey and then was forced to marry the imp. If anyone is going to be able to provide Arya with any solace, it'll be Sansa. Except Arya doesn't want her sisters reassurances and empty words. No, she wants warmth and a pair of strong arms to embrace her. Gods be damned, she shouldn't have left Braavos.  
"You could run."  
  
It takes all her restraint to hold back a laugh. Run from a queen who has dragons? Run from Jon?

"I'm sick of running."

 Ever since that day her father had been arrested, she'd been running. 

 "They can have me instead, I'll marry the prince. Arya, you don't have to do this." The plea in Sansa's voice tugs at the assassins heart. She turns to look at her sister, into those Tully blue eyes. 

 "You're betrothed to Dorne. We must each do our duty to keep peace in the realm, you secure ties with Dorne and the Targaryen secures her hold on The North by marrying me to her cousin. Family, duty, honor."|  
She doesn't like it, but she can appreciate what the queen is doing. The North will never rebel if she is princess and Bran will hold their loyalty. Besides, at least she'll be with Jon. Arya wonders about the girl that would have refused and told the queen to go fuck herself. Except Arya has seen what the Dragon Queen does to those that displease her. She does not fear death, getting torched by a dragon on the other hand...

 Sansa approaches her, closing the small amount of distance between them. After all these years, Sansa is still taller. When she wraps her arms around Arya, the girl does her best not to recoil. In the house of Black and White, a touch always came with a price, especially if it was in kindness and from Jaquen.  
"I'm so sorry Arya. I'm sorry that I didn't listen. You knew what Joffrey was. You saw it but I lied for him. You saw the world for what it was and I only saw what I wanted. I should have listened."  
"Yes. You should have but it wouldn't have made a difference anyway."  
"Perhaps," Sansa sighs, considering the way things could have gone if she'd known Joffrey was a monster. She wouldn't have begged their father to allow the betrothal. The butchers boy might have been alive today. What if their fathers death had been Sansa's fault?

 This is the most that her and Sansa have spoken since Arya rescued her from the clutches of Littlefinger. Their reunion hadn't been anything like what Arya had been dreaming about, ever since she discovered that she wasn't no one. Arya had been covered in blood, needle locked in her grip as some nameless soldier brought down the door to Sansa's room. She'd been proud to find her sister gripping sewing scissors and standing in a pathetic stance for attack. At the sight of Arya, Sansa had dropped them.   
"Is it really you?"  
"Are the silly little ballads affecting you're brain? Of course it's me, stupid."  
"Gods Arya, you're still a little brat. Look at your clothes!" The despair in Sansa's face as she looks upon her sisters armor, made Arya want to cry and laugh and shout at the moon. Sansa is still Sansa. Except that Arya has now had time to discover that she isn't. Sansa is to be shipped off to Dorne in a week and instead of packing up a storm like she would have, she's asked the servants to do it. She no longer tries to replicate the complicated hairstyles of the south and her clothing is modest, not revealing any skin. Her sister had retreated into a shell. After her complaint about Arya's appearance, Sansa had embraced her sister and whispered something so quietly that if Arya hadn't been a trained assassin, she would have missed it.   
"You came back from the dead. Maybe the others will too."  
Arya didn't have it in her to tell her sister about Lady Stoneheart.

 She's the first to let go, Sansa steps back, tears freezing upon her pale cheeks.   
"You should get inside," Arya advises, "I'll say my prayers and then go inside as well."  
Sansa nods.   
Arya hasn't prayed to the Old Gods in years. She only has one God, the God of Death. How ever, she could sense Gendry skulking about in the shadows and wanted to speak to him without Sansa. She may have changed but Arya doubts that she'd approve of her friendship with the blacksmith. Arya had sent a squire to tell Gendry to meet her here, as soon as she'd gotten the Raven from Kings Landing. He steps out from behind the trees as soon as Sansa is out of sight and earshot. 

"You wanted to see me, m'lady?" 

 Arya fights back an eye roll and does her best to ignore the flip that her stomach did at the sight of him. Gendry has changed over the years. It's impossible but he's even taller now, his shoulders have gotten broader and the muscles across his body have gotten bigger. It appeals to Arya in a way that she doesn't understand. When she looks at his lips, she doesn't want to hit his mouth to get him to shut up. Instead she wants to see what they'd feel like if they were pressed against her lips. She's seen people kiss. Jaqen had kissed her once. She knows what kissing is but why does she want to kiss Gendry? He's just a stupid bull.   
Arya thrusts the crumpled letter at him. Confused, he takes it. Arya watches the crease between his eyes and the pursing of his lips as he reads the letter, steadily growing more agitated. Finally Gendry's Baratheon blue eyes meet her Stark grey ones. 

 "You're getting married?"

 "It looks that way."

 "The Prince is coming here to collect you?" 

 Arya winces at the word 'collect.'

"Yes."

 "He can go fuck himself."

 Ever since he realized she's a highborn lady, Gendry had done his best not to swear in front of her. This outburst takes her by surprise. 

 "Don't look at me like that Arya. You just got home and this fucker wants to take you away. They should give you more time to be with your family."

 Arya suspects that that's not the real reason Gendry is so angry. 

 "Bran was going to send me away to some lord anyway."

   
Gendry gives her a look of pure exasperation. He's right, Bran wouldn't have made her do anything.   
"I'll go to Kings Landing with you. I'll work for any blacksmith that'll take me but I will remain at your side."  
"Don't be stupid-"  
"Seven hells Arya, I am not leaving your side. I can't lose you. Not again." With each sentence, Gendry's anger turns to sadness as he's reminded of the time that he let her slip through his fingers and run into the rain.   
"Stupid bull," Arya mutters, smiling at her blacksmith. 

 Gendry smiles as he closes the distance between them. He's so big that he shelters her from the winter winds. Gently, he runs his fingers down her cheek, his thumb brushing over her lips. The touch sends warmth spiralling throughout her body and causes her lips to tingle at the sensation of his thumb brushing over them. Her desire to kiss him is even stronger now. She's not married yet and it's Gendry. She can trust Gendry to stop her. Arya realises that he'll most likely push her away. Ignoring the sting of that thought, she gets up on her toes, hands on his shoulders, and plants a gentle kiss on his soft but firm lips.   
"Arya," Gendry whispers against her kiss. 

 She squeezes her eyes shut and waits for Gendry to push her away and tell her that she's just a child. Instead she feels his large hand on the small of her back and his other hand cupping the back of her neck. Gendry bends his neck a little more so that he can kiss her back. Arya is surprised when she feels his lips moving against hers in a rhythm like manner. His lips are so warm and the kiss makes her knees go weak. Gendry sucks on her bottom lip before biting it. Arya lets out an animalistic noise that she does not recognize as he licks over the lip to soothe the sting. Where did Gendry learn to kiss like this? She doesn't want to know. She doesn't want him to stop either. She should have kissed him earlier. Last night when they were in the privacy of his forge, she should have kissed him. They could have been kissing all night. Suddenly Arya can feel something building within her, a desire that she doesn't understand. She wants Gendry touching her there, relieving the pressure. Why is she so wet? His tongue slides into her mouth and it makes matters worse. She catches herself moaning as his tongue slides over her own. She never considered that kissing someone could taste good but Gendry tastes like spiced wine and something bitter.  

 "Gods Arya, I can't." He leans his head against her so that their noses are touching.   
"Why not?" She demands, her hands linking behind his neck as she tries to bring him back down for another kiss. Gendry has a strange pained look in his eye. Has she hurt him?  
"You don't even know what you do to me. Arya you can't go around kissing men. Especially you. Gods Arya, you could bring any man down to his knees."  
What is he talking about? Can they go back to kissing? He hasn't let her go yet, that must be a good sign. She sidles in closer to his body, pressed flush against him. She notices his throat bob as he swallows. Arya also notices something hard pressed against her stomach. 

 "Gendry?"  
"You need to go."  
The North has never felt more colder then when he let her go. 

 

**Gendry**

 

 Ignoring his cock, Gendry leaves Arya in the Godswood. Every step is agony as he walks away from the one thing that has been anchoring him to sanity. Arya, wanting and keening in his arms, begging for him to keep kissing her. Except that he wouldn't have been able to hold back for much longer before tearing at her green dress and spoiling any chances she had of being married a maiden. He can't do that to her. Can't ruin her to satisfy his own selfish desires. His cock throbs painfully as he thinks about sinking into her warm channel. Gods he needs to fuck someone, keep his mind off Arya Stark. Except isn't that what his father had done? Fucked his way through Kings Landing to forget Lyanna Stark. 

 He returns to his forge, ignoring the stack of armor that he has to repair, he goes to his cot. Unlacing his breeches, he pulls out his cock and sets a punishing pace to rid himself of his painful erection. He wants Arya beneath him, begging him for it. Telling him how big he is and perfect. How every time she touched herself, it was to the thought of him. All her time in Braavos was spent thinking about him and dreaming about him. He wants her to moan his name as he makes her come.   
"Is this why you left me in the Godswood?"   
His hand flys away from his cock as if though he'd been burnt. Arya leans against the doorframe, looking at his cock with fascinated interest.   
"Seven hells Arya! You could have knocked!" Amongst his other curses, he tucks his still hard cock into his pants and fails miserably to tie up his breeches.   
"Oh just let me do it," Arya growls, kneeling before him and grabbing the laces. 

 Gendry freezes at the sight of Arya kneeled before him, her eyes on his crotch. Looking up from her work she catches him looking at her with undulated lust.   
"What?"  
"You really don't know, do you?"  
"Don't know what?"  
"What you can do to a man."  
Arya gives him a puzzled look, "I can kill a man."  
Gendry chuckles, helping her to her feet.   
"Arya, surely you know about these things. About how babes are made?"

 She looks as if though he just slapped her. 

 "Gendry, I'm nineteen years old. I know how babies are made. Men fuck women."

 "Then you know the effect you must have on me."

 She looks puzzled again, "You want to fuck me?"

 For someone who likes to call him stupid, she's not very bright herself.   
"It doesn't help that you kiss the way you do or when you kneel in front of me like before."  
A sudden clarity dawns upon her adorable face as she realises what he's saying.   
"You better go."  
She ignores him and kneels back down to his breeches.   
"Arya, what are you doing?" She looks like a woman set on a mission, which is never a good thing with Arya.   
She undoes any work that she'd done before as she reaches into his breeches and takes out his hard cock.   
"Arya," Gendry hisses. 

 "Hush. I'm trying to work this out."  
"Arya it's not a bloody puzzle."   
He has to stop this, she shouldn't be doing this with him. She stares at his cock intently as if strategically considering a plan of attack. Slowly she puts the tip to her lips and sucks his cock into her mouth.   
"Ahh Arya, watch out for your teeth!"   
She mumbles something that sounds like a sorry and licks her way along his cock. His head falls back as the feeling goes straight up his spine. Arya Stark is on her knees before him, sucking his cock. She makes sloppy work of it but what she lacks in skill she makes up for in enthusiasm. Arya laps at his cock, sucking him in all the way down her throat. 

 "Arya." Gendry groans, involuntary pumping his cock into her mouth. He's about to apologize when suddenly she moans and he feels the vibrations of her throat around his dick. Her hands clutch his ass and she forces him to thrust into her mouth over and over again.   
"Arya, I'm going to cum."  
Her only response is a little moan. With a growl, he grabs the back of her head and thrusts himself down her throat. He's on the tipping point when Arya looks up at him, her grey eyes almost obscured by her dilated pupils and undulated lust. He cums right down her throat and the lady swallows it all up. 

 "Arya."  
"Gendry."   
He drops to his knees and kisses her, allowing her tongue to explore his mouth.he wants to pay her back, kiss her sweet wet cunt. He's about to think of several reasons as to why he shouldn't but he can't send her away after what she'd done for him. Gently, he lays her down on his bed and begins to lift up layers and layers of skirts and slides off her small clothes.   
"Gendry?"  
"Don't worry m'lady. I'm going to make you feel good."

 Placing his hands on the inside of her thighs, he gently pries her legs open to find her glistening wet lips. Taking things slowly, he runs his fingers along the inside of her thighs, kissing along the trail his fingers lead. He bites and licks his way up to the bundle of nerves that always makes the whores go crazy for him. He's grateful now for his past endeavors as it has given him all the knowledge he needs to pleasure Arya. He presses a gentle kiss to it and licks along the length of her pussy, causing Arya to gasp. She tastes so sweet it's intoxicating. He could do this all winter, make his lady feel good. Gendry starts kissing and licking her lips, occasionally sucking on her bud.  Arya wiggles and bucks as he pleasures her.   
"Gendry." She moans. 

 She's close. Carefully, Gendry slides a finger into her tight cunt.   
"Gendry!"   
"I know how good this feels for you. You're so wet. I've dreaming about this for years, hoping that one day I'd be able to worship your body. Arya you're so tight."  
She arches her back as he slides in another finger.   
"You like that m'lady?"   
Her growl spurs him on as he continues to hit the spot that causes all women to shatter. Pressing his thumb to her nub, he watches her come undone.  
"Gendry!" 

 Mouth slighty ajar, he watches her breasts rise and fall, her hair splayed across his pillows and a lovely rose tinge upon her cheeks.    
"Why? Why haven't you done that before?"  
Gendry chuckles, laying beside her and tucking Arya into his arm.   
"I don't want you to marry him."   
His heart skips a beat as he waits for her response.   
"I don't want to marry him."

 

**Aegon**

 

The feast is poor in comparison to those in Kings Landing but it's better then any experiance he used to have. He hates these parties and crowds. He spent years avoiding these type of people, people that wanted him dead. Now he's surrounded by them as they kiss his ass. People keep asking him questions and trying to make polite coversation but he cannot tear his eyes away from his betrothed. Her face is flushed as she laughs with whoever is sitting beside her. When his cousin told him that he was to marry the best warrior in her army, he imagined someone who looked more like Brienne of Tarth, not the petite and beautiful woman before him. The first thing that took him by surprise was that she had all her teeth. The second was her breasts. They aren't large but neither are they small, the curve of her breasts can be seen as they peak out from the bodice of her blue dress. Her chestnut curls fall down her back with some tendrils framing her face. She's small in the waist and Aegon can see himself gripping her waist as he presses her body against his, to drop a kiss down upon her plump lips. 

 Feeling bold, he gets up from his place at the table and approaches her. She looks up from the dark haired man that she's speaking to, to turn her sparkling grey eyes upon him.   
"Lady Arya, would you like to dance with me?"  
Arya Starks eyes grow bigger as she turns to look at the man beside her and then back to him.  
"Of course your highness."  
She rises from her seat and accepts his arm when he offers it to her. They join the dancers upon the floor. Aegon is surprised to find that Arya's hands feel rough as if she had been doing hard labor or from handling a sword.    
"You look very beautiful tonight, Lady Arya." 

 He places his hand on her waist and draws her close to his body. They begin to move along with the quick pace that the band has set.   
"Is his Royal Highness relieved that he has a beautiful wife to make him good looking children?"  
Aegon is taken aback by her response.   
"No - no, not at all. Arya, believe me, this betrothel isn't exactly what I wanted either."  
"Then go back to Kings Landing and tell your aunt that you don't want to marry me."  
"It's not that simple and my aunt isn't an easy woman to refuse. Lady Stark we may not want this but I will do my best to make you happy."

 She meets his violet eyes with her grey ones and he sees a girl that knows happiness, has it and is about to be ripped away from it. He knows the story of Arya Strak lone wolf of the North. This woman has suffered more than he can imagine and still came out on top. Finally she has found happiness in her home and he has to take her away.   
"When do we leave for Kings Landing?"  
Her exterior has become formal and he watches as she embraces her fate.   
"In a month so that you may have time to pack and say your goodbyes."  
"I'd rather not linger."  
"How about a week then?  
"I prefer three days."

 She wants to cut the ties quickly, he can respect that.  
"Alright, three days it is."  
"I also want to take some of our own men with me."  
Aegon nods. They finish the song and she steps away from him, leaving the hall. Aegon is left standing amongst the other couples, wondering how he's going to keep himself from falling in love with a woman who will never love him back. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update but one of my friends found out about this and the knowledge that she's reading my smut makes it difficult to write. So you should stop it right now so I can write in peace. As to rest of you, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you enjoyed my little teaser of Aegon. I will update soon, before the month is up.


	5. Tower of Regrets

**Lyanna**

She could wear the rug away with her pacing. The yellow skirts of her dress whip around her ankles as she turns from one side of the tower to the next. What had she been thinking? Running off with Rhaegar had been foolish. Extremely foolish. A year since the joust and the Prince has forced his way further and further into her heart. When he asked her to runaway with him, no hadn't even crossed her mind. It should have. Robert is furious and now the Mad King has her father. Rhaegar will fix this. Rhaegar promised to fix this. 

 Lyanna bites at her nails, trying to hold back a wail. She should do something. Go to Kings Landing and beg everyone's forgiveness. She'd do it, right now and go save her father. Except that it's not just her anymore. Absentmindedly she strokes her still flat abdomen. She hasn't bled for two moons. She is without a doubt, with child. Little Rhaegar. She can't go to kings landing, not whilst bearing the bastard child of the heir to the Iron Throne. Lords will plot to have her babe taken away from her. 

 She may not be able to save her father but Brandon is there and Rhaegar has been in meetings all day, writing letters and talking urgently with other lords. He'll have her father realized. Maybe the Mad King will allow for her to be the Kings mistress. Elia Martell will have her killed, and her child. There is no way in which this ends happily. She's doomed them all just because she was charmed by a prince. She fell in love with him too quickly, gave herself over to fast. No, she can't doubt her love for Rhaegar. Can't doubt herself. 

 The girl jumps when the doors to her chamber opens but it's only a violet eyed prince standing in the doorway.   
"How are you feeling?"   
He approaches Lyanna, wrapping her into an embrace.   
"I don't know. If my father dies, it'll be all my fault," Lyanna whispers, tears running down her snow pale face. Rhaegar sighs, his breath hot on her ear, as his grip around her tightens.   
"My father's actions are not your fault. We couldn't have known that this would happen." 

 He strokes her dark chestnut coloured hair in the hopes of providing comfort. Instead she finds it stifling, much like this tower.   
"No. I shouldn't have left Winterfell. Running away with you was selfish."  
Rhaegar yanks on her hair, pulling her head up to look at him, "We cannot regret this Lyanna. I am a Targaryen and for years my family has taken what is theirs with fire and blood. You are mine, Lyanna and I have taken you. No one else can have you." 

 The tower be damned. Lyanna feels the walls of her new prison encroach upon her. Rhaegars love is more constricting then iron chains. His violet eyes bore into her grey ones, and for the first time, they're not interesting and wonderful, they're inhuman. She misses the warmth and comfort of Lord Baratheon. He never harmed her and his love never hurt the ones she loved. Rhaegar is not a wild horse she can tame, he's a dragon that'll burn away anyone who tries to come close to her. She can't return home. Her father will lock her away and have her child disposed of. She can't go to Robert. He'll hate the child of Rhaegar. 

 He kisses the top of her head and Lyanna fights back a shiver. This is her life now. She has doomed them all to the musings of a madman and she's not entirely sure if she's referring to the King.   
"Dear Lyanna, we should go for a stroll through the garden. Spring will be here soon."

 Spring. 

 

Summer. 

 

Autmn. 

 

All fleeting. All seasons that promise years of prosperity and happiness. She thought Rhaegar was her Spring. Her new hope for life and love. She should have known better, she is a Stark and every Stark knows that no matter how beautiful the spring is, how hot the summer blazes and what colours fall in the autumn, it'll be swept and washed away by winter. The flowers will freeze to the roots, the heat won't stand a chance against the biting winds and the colours won't be seen under the blanket of white. 

 

Winter is coming.  

  
**Robert**  

 

 "Shhhhh Robert! They'll hear us," Lyanna giggles, her corset unlaced and her breasts bared to the world. Robert likes her like this, smiling with the spark of life in her eyes. Pressed against the tree, she honestly looks like the wild queen of the north, her skirts bunched at her waist with one leg hooked over his hip. He tentatively runs a hand along her outer thigh. The hunting party is further off and shouldn't find them. Robert doesn't know how Lyanna had caught up to them or how she'd managed to get him away without anyone knowing.   
"I hope the entire bloody realm hears us. I want the whole world to know you're mine."  
A moment of displeasure passes upon his ladies face and Robert wonders if he'd hurt her, pressed upon her too hard. However it passes quickly and she presses her sweet mouth to him.   
"You're a fool Robert Baratheon."  
  
Lyanna

Robert wakes, his eyes however remain closed. Maybe he can still retain a memory of the way she smelt and the way her eyes looked in direct sunlight. Maybe if he remembers every detail, she'll appear before him. However, when he does open his eyes, he's still in Storms End, alone. Gods, he'll go to all seven hells and back to have that girl by his side. Even if that means going to war. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, I know but the massive time skip means that I have to stretch out the chapters. I hope you guys enjoyed this one. Leave a comment about how you feel about Lyanna's constant change of heart.


	6. Harsh Substitute

 

**Arya**

 

She does her best not to think about Gendry riding behind her and tries her best to concentrate on what her betrothed is saying. Aegon is very good looking but she prefers dark black hair rather than the light blonde head that's beside her. His eyes aren't blue and he probably doesn't have a nice stomach like Gendry because he's not Gendry. She doesn't want a prince, she wants her blacksmith. Gendry had been part of her pack. When they'd been captured by the Bolton's, when she had to listen to the cries and pleas of women as they were raped, Gendry held her tighter, making her smaller between himself and Hot Pie, making sure that the men never knew what Gendry always did. Even when she was Arya Horseface, Gendry saw past that and saw her as a girl. 

  
"You're not listening to me, are you?"  
  
Arya wonders what Sansa would say. She'd most likely lie or say something all flowery and pretty. Arya could become Sansa, embrace who Sansa is and the face she wears but Arya had left that life behind in Braavos.   
  
"It's cold and we have a long journey ahead of us, I hope you don't expect to fill all of it with small and useless conversations."   
  
Prince Aegon laughs, giving her a breath taking smile. The Prince is handsome with his Targaryen violet eyes and almost silver hair but it doesn't mean she will like him anymore than she'd like a fat husband. Her time in Braavos when she was blind and the world was shrouded in darkness, had taught her that their are more important things than her base desires. She may have a destiny but she also has a duty to the House of Stark and her family. She had failed them when she didn't reach Rob in time and failed them when she hadn't tried to save Sansa or find Bran. She will not fail them again. The burden of her duty has however, been made easier by the presence of her pack.   
  
"They warned me you were a difficult one."  
  
Arya didn't deign to care who 'they' were. Most likely the Dragon Queen. Her and Daenerys had grown close as Arya had become the Queen's personal assassin, eliminating political opponents with a finesse and swiftness that armies could not. Sometimes, when Arya thinks about the girl she was and the woman she hoped to be, the reality of where life had taken her, terrifies her. Already she's decided the best way to kill the prince. It wasn't something she'd deliberately thought about but the second he'd pulled his horse up beside hers, instincts that had been honed in by Jaquen kicked in and the next thing she knew, she'd assessed the sword and blades on the prince, the knights and guards within range and the amount of force it would take to plunge a blade through his breast plate. Arya had insisted on riding in her armor, in case they were attacked. Westeros hasn't accepted it's new queen graciously. Dorne agreed to bend the knee, as long as they were allowed to go about their business the way they always did. The Riverlands however, are still infested with rebels and Lannister men who remain loyal to Cersei. Somehow, that terrible woman had escaped Kings Landing and fled with a small host of her late fathers men.   
  
When Arya is queen - Daenerys inability to bear children is well known to Arya - she will hunt down the Lannister bitch and make her pay for every death that her silver tongue had ordered from the death of Micah to her fathers and brothers. She'd enjoyed plunging a dagger into the chest of her lover. She'd shown the king slayer that a real warrior kills their opponent when they have a sword in hand and are face to face with you.   
  
"You're not much of a talker, are you?"  
  
Arya wonders why he's trying to get anything out of her. She'll do her bloody duty. She'll marry and bed him, have his heirs but she's not sure if she can withstand his desire to form any bond beside that.   
  
"I find words to be a waste of time."  
  
Maybe her annoyance for words has sprung from her time with Gendry. Usually they'd traveled in silence as Hot Pie yammered on. Mostly they only spoke to yell at one another, accusations flying whenever they felt that they were lost. Of course there'd been those moments such as Acorn Hill and when Gendry had defended her from the other men. Sometimes when she wandered away from their campfire to seek out the stars, Gendry would follow, tucking her into his side so that she would not grow cold. Words were wasted when everything they wanted to say could be exchanged with a single look. When she was with murderers, thieves and rapists, she didn't know who to trust but she could trust Gendry. Gendry was different.   
  
"Really? I believe that the words a person chooses to say, shows the type of being that they are."  
  
Sansa would have been impressed with that response. A smile plays at the corner of her lips as she imagines the Hound saying something of the same meaning but with his own words.   
  
_"Piss. What a man says determines whether he's a cunt or if he'll die."_  
  
"Something funny?" Prince Aegon asks, looking at Arya from the corner of his eye.   
  
Arya turns her head to give him an astonished look, "Humor would suggest I am anything but difficult."  
  
Prince Aegon actually laughs at that.   
  
"My aunt tells me you were a great help to her during the war, tell me Lady Arya, what did you do for her?"  
  
So he doesn't know. Arya wonders how the prince would react if he were to learn that his wife to be is an experienced killer.   
  
"I killed men for her."  
  
Aegon nods at this. It's now that Arya realizes that she knows little to nothing about her betrothed.   
  
"Tell me Prince Aegon, how does one spend their time in hiding?"  
  
She wonders if maybe she overstepped her bounds when he doesn't respond straight away. Maybe he doesn't like to discuss those years, the same way she doesn't like to talk about her time in Braavos. She's only told Gendry a few details but not about the men she killed or when she was plunged into a world of darkness.   
  
"It gave me time to be educated, I'm fluent in many languages and well acquainted with the history of Westeros. It was frustrating though, watching the Usurper empty the coffers and run begging to Lannisters. I could have done better. Been a better king and now, despite that I have a better claim to the throne, it's my aunt that sits upon the Iron Throne."  
  
Arya glances over her shoulder to see if anyone is within hearing distance. What Aegon just said was treasonous.

Muttering under her breath she says, "Every man thinks he can do the job better until they feel the weight of the crown."  
  
She hadn't meant for him to hear her, "Not every man is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen."  
  
"The same Rhaegar that was killed by Robert Baratheon?" She asks innocently.   
  
Aegon looks at her, fury dancing within his violet eyes. His nostrils flare as he growls, "The usurper was a traitor to the realm."  
  
Making sure to look him in the eyes, Arya says the words that most had thought, but had not had the courage to say to the Prince, "You're grandfather was mad and your father would have soon followed. Just look at what he did to my aunt and your poor dead mother."   
  
With that said, she spurred her horse forward, away from the Prince and his fury. Turning her horse back, she rose towards the back of the column, reaching Gendry.   
  
He's engrossed in a conversation with the knight riding beside him, however, as if he'd felt her presence, Gendry turns his head to see her approach. His face shifts as his serious expression turns into a whole hearted grin.   
  
"M'lady," He bows his head in greeting .   
  
She's not sure if she wants to kiss him or hit him. If they'd been alone, she'd done both. Nothing has happened between them since that night when the letter had arrived, despite how much they wanted it to. Gendry told her that she will be a Princess, too good for him. Arya of course had rolled her eyes and told him to stop spouting such rubbish but he'd remained adamant. However, she still caught him staring and no matter how much he resists her, he can't deny her his friendship.   
  
"I have decided that we're turning back to Winterfell, I'm done with this prince rubbish."  
  
The men around her laugh, all Northerners, all loyal to her.   
  
Gendry chuckles, shaking his head, "Not even married and you're already annoyed with him."  
  
Arya wrinkles her nose up in disgust, "He hasn't even grown up a Prince and he's already as stuck up as Joffrey."   
  
Gendry gives her a disbelieving look, "Surely there's no one worse than that cunt."  
  
Once, along time ago, his eyes would have grown wide as he realised that he'd cursed in front of her and would have stumbled over the words to apologise. Now he knows that such nonsense will only result in a swift punch to the gut.   
  
Arya considers Joffrey and remembers her fathers head rolling down the stone steps, her sister falling to the floor and Joffrey's leering gaze as he looked upon her fathers corpse.   
  
"No, no one is worse than Joffrey."  
  
Gendry catches the tone in her voice and reaches out a hand to hold hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. It's not an embrace but it'll do. After years of no Gendry, some Gendry will do. 

  
  
**Aegon**  

After days of riding, they finally approach Kings Landing. His future bride has managed to avoid him for the rest of the journey, remaining at the back with her men and the Blacksmith. He'd turned back to demand an apology or maybe to apologise himself - he wasn't entirely sure - when he'd seen the black haired man take her hand in his. He'd been sure that she'd hit him or at least snatch her hand away but no, instead colour had crept up her neck and a smile had fluttered upon her previously sad face. Aegon felt as if though he'd been punched in the gut. He'd expected that a woman such as Arya, someone who'd belonged to the House of Black and White, to be no stranger to other men but he hadn't expected her to have someone back home, let alone a blacksmith. Aegon was tempted to pierce him through the chest but somehow he thought that Lady Arya would have been less than impressed with that course of action.   

 The people of the streets peer at the procession as they ride towards the Red Keep. Some are there to catch a glimpse of their prince whilst others are there to see the infamous, little wolf of the North. Arya Stark escaped the Lannisters during the sack of Kings Landing, survived the wall, escaped the towers, defeated the Hound and became one of the most deadliest assassin's in Braavos. Children pointed her out as and shrieked in delight when she looked their way, shooting them a wolfish grin. She had made herself easy to notice in a blue tunic and grey cloak with fur trimmings, the wold of the north embroidered upon the back. Women throw flowers at the hooves of her horse and shout her praise. She freed them from Cersei's tyranny. Aegon wonders if his aunt is fully aware of the support that the Northern girl has in the South. For the crowd - at least that's what he tells himself - he turns his horse and joins his bride to-be, gripping her hand and raising it for the crowd to see. They whoop and holler as they see their prince with his future princess.   
  
Arya allows it for a moment before extracting her hand from his. He feels wounded, surely she can bare to hold his hand till they reach the Keep? The true reason behind her rejection is revealed as a beggar gets awfully close to his horse and it's too late when Aegon notices the blade. However the dagger never meets it's mark as a small and thin sword embeds itself in the mans eye.   
"Run," Arya instructs, pulling the sword out and commanding her horse into a gallop. Already his guards have taken action as three more assassins appear, intent on killing him. With a kick from him, Aegon commands his horse into a hard gallop to catch up with Arya, who seems to know the streets better than he. They ride hard with a handful of guards at their side, till they reach the gates of the Red Keep.   
  
She dismounts immediately, handing the reigns to a squire. Furious, she turns to the prince.  
"This is why you should have been in the carriage, you and your stupid pride could have just killed you."  
Gods be damned. The fury burning within those grey eyes causes the beast beneath him to stir. Breathing hard, she waits for him to say something, her cheeks flushed but the rest of her a deathly pale. Aegon isn't entirely sure how to respond, his blood pumps loudly in his veins, thrumming in his ears. He should have been more careful. That much is obvious but why does his little wolf care?   
  
Dismounting, he approaches the girl.   
"Worried for me?"  
Colour returns to the rest of her face as her fury grows.   
"I worry for the realm. The Queen needs a stable position upon the throne if she is to keep it, the death of an heir would not bode well."  
He doesn't believe her. His half-brother Jon also has a claim to the Iron Throne.   
However, before he can say anything, the rest of the escort guards arrive along with some Northern men. Aegon finds himself being ushered inside and as he looks over his shoulder to Arya, she's in the arms of the Blacksmith.   
  
                                                                                                                    ************  
Taking a deep breath, he knocks upon Arya's chamber door.   
He doesn't hear her approach it, nonetheless it swings open before him.   
"You're Grace."  
"My Lady, may I come in?"  
Arya steps back from the door, allowing him in, "It's your stupid castle."  
She's been given a small but grand room decorated in her house colours. Arya's suitcase remains unpacked. There is no point in unpacking, she'll be moving into their marital chambers soon. Arya takes a seat upon a chair and gestures for Aegon to join her. He can't help but notice the way that her breeches shape her strong legs and how her short tunic also reveals the expanse of her thighs. Has the blacksmith seen what's beneath? Touched her pale and creamy skin with his hands and tongue? A beast within his chest roars in disdain at the very thought.   
  
Taking a seat across from hers, he looks out at the doors that lead onto a balcony. The white curtains billow in as the breeze blows within but beyond that he can see the moon over the black waters of the bay. Aegon shivers. With winter upon them it is too cold to have windows and door thrown open but she doesn't seem to mind. Arya is looking out towards the water, paying him no attention.   
"I came to thank you for saving my life, I honestly would have died if it weren't for you."  
Arya shrugs, her eyes not leaving the sky. He doesn't feel like enough has been said. He knows, he can feel it that beneath that cool exterior there is a woman who will challenge him and restore sanity to the insane life of the Red Keep. She has to.   
"I know you say that you did it for the realm but I wanted to thank you anyway."  
Still nothing. He needs to hear that voice with it's bite and tone almost as cold as the North itself.   
  
"What does the blacksmith mean to you?"  
That earns a reaction.   
Lady Stark turns to finally grace him with her sterling silver eyes, her thick eyebrows raised as if she intends them to join her hair.   
"I suppose I can't say it's none of your business."  
Aegon nods, afraid to say anything now that he's got her talking. His fingers impatiently drum against the table top as he waits for her to decide what to say. Arya watches them not with annoyance but mild interest.  
"You're hands are so different. His are big and calloused whilst your fingers are long, slender and soft. You can tell a lot about a man from his hands. My father was a lord but his hands were tough from years of wielding a sword. When he sentenced someone to death, he did it himself and could severe a mans head from his body in a single stroke. Can you do that, Prince Aegon? Can you sentence a man to death and carry it out? Joffrey didn't. He had Ilyn Payne carry out his sentence. I had paid him back for that service, " She pauses a moment before continuing, "Tell me, what kind of man are you?"  
  
Who is this girl with such sad eyes but such fury burning in her voice?  She has suffered but so has she and she does not get to shroud herself in it and claim to be immune to the world. He knows her pain, he suffered it too.   
"I am a man who is so loyal to his house and Queen that he is willing to marry the daughter of the man who supported Robert Baratheon's rebellion. A rebellion in which my mother was raped and brutally murdered as was my sister. I alone was whisked away to the Free Cities where I had to avoid the Usurpers assassins and live in banishment. I, like you Arya Stark, am a survivor."  
That answer seems to please her, she falls back into the seat, gesturing towards the wine upon the table.   
Carefully, watching her, he pours for her and himself. She takes the glass and rolls the stem between her nimble fingers.   
"The blacksmith is a companion to Arry who he met on the road to the wall. He protected Arry and kept his secret, making sure that the rapists didn't know he was a girl or that the patrolling guards didn't know she was the missing Stark girl."  
  
There's more, there must be more but that's all he'll be getting from her tonight. Downing the wine in such a fashion it would make The Hand proud, he rises and takes her hand, placing a gentle kiss upon it, "My lady."  
Her eyes meet his and he sees that fire of hers burning there. He's a Targaryen dammit, always doomed to be drawn to the fire. It could only be the wine that had made him so brave as he yanks her up of her seat and plants a kiss upon those determined lips. She tastes like snow and wine and every inch of her is intoxicating. Grabbing her by the waist he slides his tongue into her mouth and kisses her with all his might. He's encouraged by the fact that she's not fighting him, cupping the back of her neck, he breathes in her very essence. That is until he realises that she's not fighting him but she's not kissing him back with the same passion either. Hers is more mechanical   
  
Ripping his lips away from her, he looks down at the girl. Small wolf indeed.   
"I'm sorry."  
"Are you?"  
"I thought you wanted it too."  
"Did you?"  
His heart falls to his stomach and mouth turns dry. No, no he hadn't but he'd wanted her to want it as much as he had.   
"Will you ever?"  
Her only response is a sad smile as she ushers him out of her room.   
  
On the other side of a closed door, Aegon is left wondering about the girl and all that had crossed her path to leave her so broken. Of course he'd seen her laugh, with _him_. Aegon is determined however, that girl is his salvation as he is hers.   
  
                  

**Gendry**

Two weeks back in Kings Landing and it's like he never left. The castle found room within their own forge for him and he's managed to bury himself in work, a task, he suspects, was made easier by all the new armor that the prince has requested. Arya had warned him that the prince knows something. Gendry is finding it hard to care however. As long as Arya is in his arms, he is happy. The woman spends everyday infuriating him, pushing him to the edge beyond reason only to pull him back with her laughter and smiles. He would defy all Seven Gods just to earn a smile from Arya Stark. His own happiness is completely reliant on hers. The little girl who had been his friend and family has become his lover and Gods does he love her. So it's no surprise that he's been kicked out of the forge this morning after destroying two sets of armor and a sword after slamming his hammer down too hard on the steel because he'd heard those damned Sept bells. Pacing what little remains of a Godswood, one thought plays in his head. 

  
_Arya Targaryen. Arya Targaryen. Arya Targaryen. Arya Baratheon. Arya Targarayen. Arya Targeryen. Arya Targaryen. Arya Targaryen. Arya Targaryen. Arya Targaryen. Arya Targaryen. Arya Targaryen._  
  
"Seven Hells!" Gendry bellows up into the sky.   
  
_She's not Arya of House Stark anymore._


	7. The Beginning of Promises

**Brandon**

It's right there, just within his reach if he could only move a bit closer. The world is slowly turning red but Brandon can hear the cries of his father. The chain around his neck tightens as he stretched out, trying to reach the sword. He can free them. He just needs to get a little closer. His fingers brush against the hilt. Rickards cries are dying down. The murmurs amongst the kingsguard can be faintly heard but the Mad Kings laughter rings throughout the throne room. The chain bites into his neck, cutting off his oxygen. A crushing weight descends upon his mind but he cannot die. Not when the sword is within his reach. 

   
**Jaime**

   
The Starks have always been noble and believed fiercely in the importance of honor. There was no hon our in Lord Rickard Stark and Brandon Starks death. Rickard's chard body rests amongst the green flames and Brandon lays on the ground, his face a putrid purple only seconds ago, has now gone deathly pale. His hand sill outstretched to that damned sword he was never going to reach. The Mad Kings laugh ricochets off the walls and resounds in Jaime's heart. This man in their King. This man rules over his life and Cersei's. Their father needs to stop shoving Cersei under the Mad Kings nose. He doesn't know what he'd do if she died. He'd lose a part of himself. 

   
**Ned**

   
He doesn't have time to mourn. His best friend just announced that he's going to war against the Mad King. A rebellion to end the reign of a madman and to bring their dear sweet Lyanna home. Rhaegar had taken her, most likely done terrible things to his poor sister. Ned doesn't want to consider it.   
"Will you go to war with me?" Robert doesn't look like the boy, he'd arrived with. Lyanna's abduction had taken a toll on him. How had Rhaegar taken her in the night, without anyone hearing her screams or cries for help? Robert blames himself, believes that he should have been in Winterfell to stop it.   
"I'll gather my Bannerman," Eddard responds to the relief of his friend. They'll take Lyanna back. 

   
**Rhaegar**

   
His Lyanna won't leave the room. She sits by the window where the tears freeze upon her red cheeks. She's doubting him, he can feel it. Regretting her decision to run away with him. She can't doubt them. Can't doubt the love they have. Rhaegar can't think of a world where he doesn't have his she-wolf, beside him.   
"Lyanna, I am so sorry."  
"They're dead and it's my fault."   
"No. It's my father's fault, not yours my sweet winter rose-"  
"Shut up. We murdered my father and brother. We did it. Not your father."  
Rhaegar doesn't appreciate her tone. He will not be blamed for the actions of a madman.

 "We? I didn't drag you out of Winterfell, Lyanna. Despite what the others are saying, you came willingly. Begged me to take you away. It was your choice to leave your family."   
His she-wolf looks at him, hurt evident in her sterling grey eyes. She truly is the most beautiful creature in the world. He wants her, now. He will always want her. She is his. Even as she looks at him with hurt and disdain, he knows she'll forgive him because they love each other. He left his wife and children for her. Sacrificed his right to the Iron Throne, for her. They will be happy together because they love each other. Their ballad will be sung for centuries to come. The dragon and his wolf.   
"Rhaegar, you're right. It's all my fault and I have to fix things. Please, let me go back. I'll explain to Robert, quell his anger."   
He thought he'd never deny her anything but he'd rather see her die then be back in the arms of that creature. 

 "His anger can't be quelled, my love. He's declared war against the Targaryens."  
Lyanna's already pale face, loses any remaining colour. She slides down from the window sill to the floor, clutching her swollen stomach.   
"I-uh-what-" choking noises escape her and Rhaegar can't get down to her fast enough, to see if she's physically alright.   
"Is Ned going to fight?" She gasps.   
He nods.   
"Are you going to fight?"   
A moment passes before he nods again.   
"If I ask you not to?"

 Rhaegar sighs, kneeling beside his lady Lyanna    
"I can't not fight, I'm the greatest warrior in the Seven Kingdoms, if I don't fight, the Lords will question my strength to rule. They'll try to put Visery's on the throne instead. He's just a boy. He can't rule. Lyanna, if I fight, it's to secure our future."  
"But you will be fighting against my brother."  
If there was a any way to take away the pain from her voice, he wishes he knew how. The pain she feels, hurts him too. He doesn't want to hurt the people she loves.  
Rhaegar kisses her upon the brow but she withdraws.  
"Lyanna-"  
"Rhaegar, I can't! I can't sit here and listen of you going to war against my brother! I need you to leave." 

 She doesn't look at him but Rhaegar knows that if she did, she'd fall apart into his arms. He also knows that she doesn't want that so despite the urge to embrace her and kiss her till everything's well again, Rhaegar rises from the ground.  
"Do you still love me?"  
"Not if you kill Ned. Promise me Rhaegar. Promise me you won't kill him, that none of your men will lay a hand on him."  
She looks up at him but from the look in her eye and the set determination upon her face, she may as well have been looking down. There's no backing down from a look like that.  
"I promise." 

 He leaves her in their room after she's agreed to move to the bed, for the sake of the child. He was initially afraid that the bad news would have caused her to lose the babe but he knew that if he'd delayed the news till the child's birth, she would never have forgiven him. In his own private chambers, he quickly writes a message to all of his Bannerman, ordering them to leave Ned Stark alive but to bring him Robert Baratheons head on a plate. 

   
**Lyanna**

 

 Rhaegar is dead. Killed by Robert Baratheon. Her eyes scan the parchment upon which the words are written but they do not change. Rhaegar is dead. A sob escapes Lyanna and quickly, it turns into a scream of agony. 

"Argh! Aaaaaaaaaah!" 

 She drops down to her knees, clutching at her abdomen. 

 "Not now!" 

 Maids run into the room, noticing her position upon the floor and the liquid pooling around her, they call for the midwife. Carefully, two of them assist Lyanna into the bed, laying her upon it. She screams out again as she's overrun by more birthing pains. 

 "Argh! It hurts! Make it stop! Make it stop!"  

 Tears stream down her cheeks and she's not entirely sure if it's for Rhaear or due to the pain.  
"You can't stop now. That babe wants to be born. Now push." The midwife has entered the room and is followed by two maids. One carries a bucket of steaming water and the other carries many pieces of cloth.   
Thirteen hours pass before the first cries of a baby entering the world, are heard.   
The nursemaid brings the child to Lyanna, placing it into her arms. 

 Looking down at her child, Lyanna wishes Rhaegar could have met his son. He looks like a Northener with his dark hair and brows eyes. So small and delicate In her arms. The boy continues to cry as if he knows that his father is dead. She cradles him closer to her chest, stroking his dark head of hair. 

 

"Hush Jon."  
  
  
  
  



	8. Carnal Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm so sorry for taking so long to update. It's been crazy busy with uni. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I tried to make it a long and everything is nicely set up for the concluding chapter. Any guesses as to how it all ends? Do you guys think Aegon is winning her over? I'd also like to apologize for my note in the previous chapter, which I have now deleted. It wasn't cool of me. Once again, sorry for the wait but I blame it on my cat. She's made my laptop her bed.

**Arya**  
**Bravos Three years ago**

The darkness, it's all she will ever see. She has been robbed of ever seeing Winterfell again and is doomed to remember the images that had been burned into her mind. Micah's dead body across the Hound's horse, her fathers head rolling down the steps, Lommy's death, Polyver, The Hound, Robb's wolf's head sewn onto his body. Too much, she's seen too many horrible things and now they are all she'll ever see. The smell of blood and rotting flesh constantly in the air and worse, she can hear Sansa screaming and crying. She shouldn't have left her sister to suffer at Joffrey's hands. The cold encompasses her and she wraps the thin blanket around her body a little tighter. 

"A girl has not yet learnt her lesson."

She hadn't heard him approach but she'd felt it, his presence within the room, the air folding away as his body pushes through it. He's looming over her small frame, his eyes burning into her. She doesn't understand what she's doing wrong. She suffers the beatings, practices her fighting and says nothing, she has become obedient to this man. What is she still doing wrong that displeases him so much? She wants to ask but she does not, she is only to reply when a question has been asked. She doesn't want to feel the lash of the stick. Reaching beside her, she grasps the staff at her side. 

"Who are you?"

In her veins, in her heart and in her soul, she is a Stark. However, Stark's are dying and in order to survive in this world, she must be no one. In order to gain revenge against those that harmed her, she must become no one. 

"I am no one."

The air is thick with the promise of a staff slicing through the air and meeting her ribs or the cruel silence. She would prefer the staff over silence. The quiet and never ending unknown terrifies her as she waits. Has he left? Is she there? Looking at her? 

"Who is Arya Stark?"

That's a question she's not sure that she knows how to answer. 

 

**Arya**  
**Kings Landing Present day**

 

The Targaryen prince avoids looking at her as she's pushed into her marital chambers. They tried undressing her but one word from their prince, had them as far away from Arya as they could get. She'd shot Jon a grateful look. Even as a Targaryen, he still looked out for her. Arya escorted herself to her chambers, glaring at any of the ladies that wanted to help. She can manage to climb a couple of stairs without killing herself. Now she wishes that she had pretended to have gotten lost, found her way into Gendry's forge. She knew the way outside of the keep, down below the castle and through the tunnel. She could be in her bull's arms right now. He wouldn't demand anything of her or ask her to rule a kingdom. He wouldn't make it her responsibility to hold the North at bay. Arya remembers asking Bran why Jon couldn't have done it. He'd sprouted some wise nonsense and when she cursed at him, telling him to speak the common tongue, he admitted that once Jon had claimed his Targaryen heritage, the North held no more allegiance to the bastard son of Lyanna, who may as well have betrayed the North when she ran off with Rhaegar. 

"Would you like me to start a fire?"  
Caught up in her own thoughts, Arya was surprised to remember that someone was still in the room with her.   
She doesn't feel the cold but Arya senses that it's more for his sake than hers. Targaryen's and their bloody fires.   
"Please."  
Aegon seems pleased to have something to do. Whilst he's turned away from her, Arya walks to the table where there are to pitchers of water and wine. Arya fills a goblet with wine for Aegon and water for herself. Her time with the faceless men has taught her that alcohol dulls the senses and has killed the best of warriors. She still remembers that night with the hound. He'd drunk so much in so little time that he'd nearly gotten killed by men that he would have easily slaughtered, had he been sober. Drinking from the glass, she notices that her hands are shaking. 

She shouldn't be afraid. She knows what she has to do, it's an easy enough process and her and Gendry have done everything but fuck. How hard can it be? Of course Arya knows the real reason she's afraid. Once he's put his prick inside her, it's final and their marriage is consummated. The thought fills her with dread and her shakes increase. No. No. No. She is Arya Stark of Winterfell and she will not be afraid of this. 

"No. That's not me."

Had it been pride or disappointment that she'd seen in her fathers eyes that day as he'd sat her down and told her what the future holds. She never wanted to marry a lord or rule his castle and now here she is, married to a prince and will likely have to rule his kingdom once the Dragon Queen passes. She had returned to fight for the North, not realizing that some battles aren't fought with wars. 

Is this how Sansa felt when she was forced to marry the Imp?

Aegon steps away from the fire place, the cackle of the fire bringing attention to their silence. Offhandedly, Arya passes him the goblet.   
"You didn't poison it, did you?" He jests.   
Now there's an idea.   
"Wine is already poison."  
She remembers Robert Baratheon. Once a great warrior who became a stumbling drunk. It was better that her Aunt Lyanna died than to see him become what he had.   
He drinks generously from it before putting it aside and reaching for her. 

Grabbing her by the waist, he slowly pulls her in, closer to him. His hand clutches her chin as he angles her face to look up at him.   
"You are beautiful."  
She can smell the wine on his breath.   
"I want to make love to you, Arya Targaryen."  
Her blood chills.   
"Stark."  
His violet eyes widen, "My apologies. I should have known that it's too soon."  
It will always be too soon. 

"You don't want me."  
It's not a question so Arya doesn't bother replying.   
"It's the blacksmith that you want. The bastard."  
Arya doesn't wince at the bit of anger in his voice and steels herself against feeling any pity for the man. He can't tell her that he is any happier with this arrangement than she is. He too is being forced to marry a woman who he feels nothing for.   
"Has he fucked you?"  
His grip on her chin becomes tighter and his fingers dig into her hips a little deeper. Arya doesn't flinch.   
"Why do Stark women always want the wrong man?"  
All her life, Arya has been told that she is the spitting image of her aunt Lyanna but she will not be compared to her now.   
Pushing him away, she spits, "Why do Targaryen's always try to take what is not theirs?"

Aegon growls, his mouth twisted into a terrifying gnarl.   
"You are my wife. You are mine."  
"I am no one and therefore can belong to nobody." She responds with an eery quiet, looking him dead in the eyes.   
"What is that supposed to mean?" He spits.   
She herself doesn't know. For years she had tried to become faceless, to ignore her past and heritage but she had failed. Jaquen always knew that she could never forget who she was. The North remembers.   
She steps away, "I need to go for a walk."  
"You can't leave the room. They expect us to consummate the marriage." The look on his face is pained but Arya feels very little sorrow for him. Spoilt prince.   
"No one will notice me."  
"You're going to that blacksmith, aren't you?"

Arya ignores him, throwing her cloak over her shoulders. 

"I wonder how my aunt will feel about a Baratheon under her roof."

She freezes, the blood in her veins turning to ice. He wouldn't.   
Her voice is cold and harsh as she asks, "Are you blackmailing me into your bed?"  
She doesn't turn to face him, her back to him with the wolf upon her back.   
"Our bed and of course not Arya, I want you there willingly but I can't allow you to go off, running into the arms of another man."  
Lyanna had run from a Baratheon, into the arms of a Targaryen. How can people say that they're similar when they're polar opposites?  
"What do you want from me then?"  
She turns to face him and finds a sad and distraught man, "I just want you to give us a chance."  
Arya never wanted this. She never wanted marriage and she never wanted to live in a castle that wasn't Winterfell but we never get what we want. She should be making the best of her situation. 

"Will you keep Gendry's heritage a secret?"  
"On my honor as a Targaryen."  
Arya nods, accepting that that's the best answer she is going to get. 

They dress into their night wear and climb into the bed under the warmth of pellets and blankets. Arya does her best to ignore the unfamiliar presence beside her and succumb to sleep. 

 

***

 She wakes in the middle of the night after a wolf dream. Sweat beads down her forehead and the bundle of nerves between her legs throbs. Nymeria is in heat. She groans as every part of her body screams to be touched, licked and consumed. She needs to be fucked rough and hard. She bites her bottom lip as she thinks of Gendry's rough hands caressing her body. That one night they had in the forge where he licked her cunt and made  her come undone. She needs that again. Once more she groans, arching up off of the bed.   
"Arya, are you alright?" Aegon asks, waking up.   
She growls in response. Her hand twitching to reach down between her legs.   
Aegon sits up, looking concerned. The fire still burns and illuminates his wife.   
"I need-"  
She bites back whatever she was going to say. 

His heart races as fear envelops him. What's wrong with her? He jumps out of the bed to the pitcher and pours water into a goblet. He runs to her, giving it to her to drink.   
"I'm going to call for a Maester."  
Arya's eyes widen and she panics, "No don't!"  
Aegon looks at her like she'd gone mad, "Arya, you need help. I don't know what's wrong with you."  
She breathing hard, her chest heaving with a single bead of sweat falling down the crest of her breast. She gasps as she bites her lip, squeezing her legs together.   
"My wolf is in heat."  
Aegon looks at her strangely before understanding dawns on him, "You're a warg like your brother."  
Arya would like to point out that all the Stark children are wargs but believes that now is not the best time for that so she simply nods. 

"What do you need?" He asks nervously, having no idea how to deal with a horny woman in his bed who doesn't want him.   
"Release. I need release."  
His cock stands at attention.   
"You want me to make you come?" He asks, more than happy to do so.   
Arya looks at him like he's an idiot.   
"No, I need you to get out."  
She watches as his brow furrows in confusion.   
"I'm going to service myself!" She explains.   
"Oh."  
He climbs out of the bed and gives her the privacy she needs. 

As soon as the door closes behind him, her hand dives underneath her gown, to the apex of her thighs. Arya ignores the bundle of nerves and pumps a finger into her pussy, arching her back. She tries to think about Gendry but Aegon's musky scent hangs everywhere in the air. He faintly smells of Braavos, spicy and hot with a hint of smoke. He wanted to pleasure her. He wanted to fuck her with his fingers, tongue and cock. Arya must be in heat to find that thought appealing. She slides in another finger as she thinks about what it would be like to have Aegon pleasure her. However, the longer she thinks about Aegon, the more she believes that she's betraying Gendry. She thinks about her bull. How he'd kiss her lips, exploring her mouth with his tongue. His massive cock would rest against her abdomen as he tilts her chin up. Her Dragon would kiss along her neck, down her spine as her Bull takes her nipple into his mouth, sucking and gently biting on it. Arya moans as her fingers and hands do her best to replicate her fantasy. Aegon probing at the entrance of her cunt with his long fingers as Gendry sucks on her nub, her legs wrapped around his strong shoulders and her back pressed against Aegon. She'd ride their hands and tongues, throwing her head back and howling at the moon. Aegon would get to fuck her first, he is her husband after all. She knows that he'd be rough and give her just the right amount of pain. Gendry would take her gently, more lovingly, kissing her as he slides into her. 

The tension builds up within her and Arya comes undone with three fingers buried inside her. Laying on her back, her voice is hoarse when she asks Aegon to come back in. Had she been screaming?   
He looks pained as he walks in with the evidence of his arousal straining in his pants.   
"Are you alright Arya?"  
He steps closer and his eyes widen as he realises that Arya had thrown off her slip.   
He watches as she lays across there bed, completely naked, panting and flushed.   
"Mmmm," She responds with her eyes closed.   
"Such a shame the Baratheon's and Targaren's hate each other so much. They'd do wonderful work together."  
With that said, she drifts off to sleep.

 

                                                                                                                    **Daenerys**

 

"Killing him would be unwise," Lord Tyrion tsks, drinking from his goblet.   
She doesn't like what he's saying, she doesn't like that he's drinking and she doesn't like that there is a Baratheon still alive.   
"He poses a threat!"  
Tyrion gives her an almost disappointed look, "You're majesty, he is a bastard with no allegiance to his former King father. I doubt the man even knows."  
"He has a claim to usurp my throne."  
Tyrion rolls his eyes, "Yes and I wish him all the best as he charges against your dragons."  
He looks to Varys, hoping his friend might help impose some sanity.   
Daenerys doesn't miss any of this, she watches as the two of them exchange looks. They're plotting something. Always plotting.  
"Your highness," the Spider finally speaks up, "I believe it would be wise to legitimize the boy."  
Tyrion looks at Varys like he'd gone mad and Daenerys considers having his head cut off. 

"Why would I legitimize him?"  
She looks to Tyrion who suddenly smiles, clearly understanding something she doesn't.   
She knew it. They're plotting against her.   
"To strengthen your hold over the realm. If the people see that a Baratheon bends the knee to a Targaryen, the people will truly believe that their true ruler has returned to them."  
Tyrion nods, liking this plan.   
"What if he doesn't bend the knee?"  
"He will. What great threat does a blacksmith pose?"

   
**Aegon**

 She smiles a little more now whenever she's around him. He can feel her slowly dropping her guard. He's taken her out hunting - despite the protests of the men -, competed with her in archery and watched as she danced around the room, far more graceful than her sister ever could be. Today they're in the courtyard, practicing their sword play. Arya insisted that they use the heavy wooden practice swords, "So that your highness doesn't get hurt."  
She's very good and Aegon expected none the less but he thought she might struggle with a broad sword. However, the heavy practice sword flows through the air, as if it were a part of her arm.  
For the third time that day, Arya disarms him.  
"Yield?" She grins, her eyes shining and her cheeks flushed, holding the tip of her sword to his chest.  
"I yield."  
She lowers her sword and begins to put it all away. He catches her glancing at the forge. 

Just as he thought he was getting somewhere, the Baratheon bastard has to ruin it for him. He was furious when his aunt told him that she intends to legitimize him. That Imp isn't nearly as smart as he thinks he is.   
Arya doesn't know yet and Aegon would prefer to delay her finding out. They haven't consummated their marriage yet and he's worried that Lord Tyrion will find some advantage to ruining his marriage so that they can unite the Baratheon's and Stark's.   
He doesn't want to lose Arya, not now after spending so much time with her. She's everything a man could hope for in a woman with her wild spirit and determined will. He's not letting some blacksmith take her away from him. 

"Shall we go eat?" He takes her arm, leading her back inside.   
"Food sounds a great idea."  
He likes feeling her near him, her small body beside him. It looks right, Targaryen and Stark.   
"They prepared the mutton today."  
Arya doesn't respond.   
Aegon keeps forgetting that she's not one to talk about court necessities.  
"Are they any closer to catching Cersei?"  
This again.   
"No, but the men are trying their best."  
"I should be out there, looking for her."

She's always saying ridiculous things such as this.   
"Arya, you can't leave the Keep so that you can ride around Westeros, looking for one woman. You are a princess and people need you here."  
Arya looks up at him like he's an absolute fool, "What do they need me for? To sing pretty songs and stitch clothes? I'm not even allowed to sit at a council meeting and I helped Queen Deanery's win the Iron Throne. I have every right to be there but because I wasn't born with a cock between my legs, my opinion doesn't matter."  
What does the Small Council have to do with Arya looking for Cersei?   
"My aunt has a woman on her small council so it has nothing to do with your lack of cock-"  
"A woman. One! But how many men? Our Queen is no different to any ruler before her."  
Aegon looks around, making sure that nobody heard her, "Careful Arya, what you're saying could be considered treason."  
Arya scoffs, "If I said the Queen wears toast on her head, it would be considered treason."  
She's going to get herself killed. There's a time and a place to say these types of things. 

"Arya, please. This isn't Braavos."  
His wife doesn't respond. He escorts her to terrace where her sister and Margeary Tyrell (who somehow escaped a beheading) are having tea. Arya looks at him, betrayed.  
"Enjoy your time with the girls my love." He leans down to peck her on the lips but she dodges it and pays him no attention as she sits down at the table.   
"Arya! That was rude!" Sansa admonishes her.   
"It's alright, your sister is still becoming accustomed to being a princess."  
Arya ignores him, violently eating a tart. Margeary laughs, completely charmed by the girl.   
Aegon leaves them their. It was cruel for him to ambush Arya with her sister but he has important matters to attend to and Lady Sansa will keep Arya busy so that she doesn't run off to her stupid blacksmith. Aegon strides through the Keep, the home that was denied him by the Usurper, the father of the bastard that wants to take his wife from him.  
After years on the run, if there is one thing that Aegon Targaryen knows how to do, it's blending into a crowd. Changing from his royal finery, he dons simple clothing that doesn't draw the attention of the eye.

Using the passages beneath the castle, within an hour, Aegon finds himself in Flea Bottom. He keeps his hood on as he enters the pub and says nothing as he sits beside Jaquen H'gar.

***

"I sat there for three hours, listening to gossip and the best way to arrange flowers. Three hours, Aegon!" Arya yells, standing across their bed with her arms crossed.   
Aegon pays her anger no attention. Walking around the bed, he approaches her. Arya looks like she's about to bite him.  
"Arya you may not have enjoyed the talk but you enjoyed seeing your sister behaving normally, admit it."  
She says nothing and Aegon chooses to believe that to be a victory.  
Stepping a little closer to her, he sweeps a lock of her hair, away from her face. She doesn't move. She always freezes like this whenever he touches her. Caressing her cheek, he wills her to turn into it, to rub her cheek against his palm but she remains stoically still.    
"I have a proposition for you."  
The wold raises her eyebrow at cocks her head at him, away from his palm.   
Lowering his arm, he takes her hand.   
"I won't ambush you with anymore lunches with your sister if you promise to give me a kiss goodnight, every night."   
Arya steps back with a scoff, "I am your lady wife, you can fuck me every night, it's my duty to carry your children, is it not?"

She turns away from him and gets into their bed.   
With a resigned sigh, Aegon moves to his side and climbs in after her. They've had a good time these past couple of weeks but no matter what he tries, she just won't open up to him. He tried talking to her about Braavos and whilst she listens attentively to his experiences, she shuts down whenever he tries to talk about hers. He's seen the wounds on her stomach and wants to know where they've come from, how she acquired them. Kiss away the pain and ache, forever banish the sad look in her eyes. He loves it when she smiles but she only ever really smiles when that bastard is around. 

"How did you and the blacksmith meet?" Aegon asks, wondering how she formed a connection with someone so quickly, after returning home. Maybe he'd followed her to Westeros from Braavos?  
Arya looks at him surprised to be posed such a questions, especially when she knows how much he hates the bastard.   
"We met just before the war of the five kings, the day my father was executed."  
Gods, she's known him for years. He was there on the most difficult day of her life. Probably held her as she cried and assured her that he'll always protect her.   
"You would have been nine. Surely he didn't-"  
Arya rolled her eyes. He doesn't like it when she does that. He knows that it's on the tip of her tongue to tell him that it's none of his business but it is, he's her husband.   
"No, he was a part of my pack. Him, Hot Pie, Weasel and I, we were a pack."  
This pack nonsense doesn't make any sense to him but he listens. Maybe some logic will emerge from it.   
She's stopped, staring down at the furs. Aegon tries to think of some way to have her continue talking. 

"Did they go to Braavos with you?"  
Arya bit her lip.   
"No. I was long separated from them before I went to Braavos."  
Her voice is so sad, her eyes even sadder. He wants to end her pain, stop asking but for the first time, his little wolf is letting him in. He can't give this chance up.   
"Why did you separate?"  
A part of him wants Arya to say that the bastard got too touchy, scared her off and now she is only with him out of fear but even as the thought occurs, Aegon knows that it's a lie. A person doesn't laugh and look up at a person the way she looks up at him, and fear them.   
She looks away, towards the ice frosted window, "Weasel died, Hot Pie found himself a home and Gendry joined the Brotherhood Without Banners to be a knight, so I ran away."  
He had no idea that the bastard had been knighted. Well, he'll have a lordship soon.   
"Is that when you went to Braavos?"  
Arya shakes her head and Aegon knows that he will get no further along the timeline so instead he chooses to ask more about her time with Gendry. 

She tells him about how she pretended to be a boy with the recruits for the Nights Watch, how Gendry was the only one who knew she was a girl, apart from Yoren, only he knew that she was Arya Stark of Winterfell. She told him about the Gold cloaks that came for Gendry, the death of Yoren, Harrenhall, that hideous oak dress. He was enraptured in the tales of her journey. She had to survive so much and she was only nine. He can't imagine what any of that must have been like. When she stops talking he looks at her beautiful pale face and believes that the settled calm upon her is due to her purge. She has finally told someone about her journey, even if it's just a small part of it. 

"Thank you for telling me."   
She looks at him with her grey eyes sparkling with what he can imagine to be tears.   
"Thank you for listening."   
Aegon smiles, leaning over and planting a small kiss on her forehead. When she doesn't flinch or move away he looks down at her to see Arya biting her lip. Tilting her chin p with his hands, he drops a small yet sensual kiss down upon her lips, his tongue flickering into her mouth. The faint moan that escapes her, makes his cock twitch. He wants to go one kissing her and never stop, never leave these sweet lips that taste like cranberries and sugar. He licks her bottom lip and gently sucks on it, causing her to let out another moan. Her hands are in his hair, pulling and tugging at it, trying to get him closer. His hands go to the small of her waist and he gently pinches at it as she bites his bottom lip with a growl.

'She might be thinking about the bastard.'

That thought alone is like a bucket of ice cold water. Aegon gently pulls himself away.   
"Good night princess."   
Arya looks at him confused, clearly expecting more but he doesn't want to be touching her whilst she's thinking about another man. He'll wait till the bastard is all but erased from her memory and then when he fucks her, she won't be able to remember her own name, let alone the bastards.   
"I'm never going to understand men."

 

 **Gendry**    
  


Kneeling before the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Gendry isn't entirely sure what is happening. The imp had spoken some impossible words and the queen demanded that he kneel. He waits for the blade of the executioners sword. He's going to be punished because of who his father was. He didn't ask for this. He never wanted to be the bastard of a lord, let alone the bastard of a king. His impatience gets the best of him and through his black hair, he glances up at the small council. The queen is signing something. Does royalty have to sign a proclamation before they do anything? He can feel a set of eyes burning into him and so he looks towards Prince Aegon who looks at him with contempt and discuss. He told them. Arya had slipped him a note, telling him that they won't be able to see each other because Aegon knows of his heritage. Gendry is sweating now. Gods be damned, he will not show them fear. He looks for a familiar face on the council, Lord Varys pays him no attention but Lord Tyrion seems to be looking at him with mild interest. Then there is Prince Jon who is looking at him like he's something to tear apart with his teeth. Does he know what Gendry had done to his little cousin. How she'd wrapped her mouth around his cock and destroyed every fantasy of her because the reality was so much better. 

Finally the queen looks up.   
"Gendry Waters, I, Deanerys Targaryen, the Unburnt Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and of the First Men Queen of Meereen and the Seven Kingdoms, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons, hereby legitimize you. Rise Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storms End.   
His legs are so weak that he's not sure he can stand but somehow he manages it. He's been legitimized. He's a lord with his own lands and castle- realization dawns upon him.   
"You sail out to Storm's End at the next moon."  
He doesn't argue. He has been kissed by the Gods themselves for she has not killed him when she has more than enough reason to do so. He is the bastard son of the man that slaughtered her entire family.

He bows and leaves the Small Council to conduct the rest of their business. He's lucky to have escaped with his life.  
He doesn't know what Lords do, his first instinct is to go down to the forge but Lords don't belong their. Lords go where they're told and can marry whoever they want unless that person is already married. Gendry's fist flies straight at the nearest wall. He doesn't feel any pain as he hits it repeatedly.  
"Gendry! What are you doing you stupid bull?!"  
That voice. It tames the anger within him.  
He turns around to see Arya in her hunting gear, her breeches hugging her curves and the tunic looks like it might be just a little bit too tight.  
"It's Lord Gendry now," he grunts. 

Arya scrunches her brow, "What on Gods are you talking about?"  
She takes his bloodied hand and gently examines.   
"The queen legitimized me."  
She ignores him, "This needs to be disinfected."  
"Arya, did you hear me?"  
"Yes I hear you but I don't see how that has anything to do with you being so stupid and trying to beat up a wall."  
She gently tugs on him, leading him away from the wall. 

He lets her lead him, Gods he'll follow her anywhere, do anything not to have to go to Storm's End without her.   
"Arya, I'm going to Storms End at the next turn of the moon."  
Her entire posture becomes rigid but she says nothing. He shouldn't be holding her hand, she's a princess but when he tries to let go of her, her grip only tightens.  
"Someone might see."  
"Let them see."  
He sighs, a small smile upon his face. There she is, the little wolf that he remembers. The girl that would never have married Aegon and would have run away with him. Gendry had been sure that that girl was lost to him forever and yet here she is, storming through the world like everyone should bend to her will before her or face death. 

She's led him to her chambers.   
"Seven hells Arya! I can't be in here!"  
"Shut up," She growls before standing up on her tip toes, grabbing him by the neck and then nothing. Even on her toes, she's not tall enough to reach his lips.   
"Gendry please."  
He shouldn't. She's a wife and he's on thin ice already with the queen knowing who he is. It's selfish, so so selfish but he finds himself bending down and scooping her up anyway, just so that he can crash his lips down upon hers. This. This is what he's been needing this entire time, desperately yearning for. She mewls in his arms and he knows she wants more now. She doesn't want to waste time with long kisses. Bringing his hand up to caress her face, he realizes that his hand is still covered in blood. Gently he settles her down as she fetches a wet wash cloth and cleans up the dried blood. 

Once she's done, she looks up at him, "Now will you fuck me?"  
"No," he grunts but before she can start swearing at him, he's got her pinned against the wall, her hot little mouth on his. Her tongue fighting his and her hands unlacing his breeches. Gendry groans. He doesn't need to maintain her maidenhead, the Targaryen prince had taken care of that. He could slide right in and stretch her till his cock could comfortably fit inside her.   
"Gendry, I need you", she keens.  
He growls. This woman will be his undoing.

A knock on the door startles them both.  
"Princess Arya?"  
Gendry swears under his breath as Arya looks for something to kick.  
"It's Lady Margeary."  
Gendry looks puzzled. Lady Margeary as in the former Queen? How in the hell is her head not currently rotting on a spike?  
"Just a minute!" Arya calls, lacing up his breeches.   
"Hide under the bed."  
"Arya, love, have you seen the size of me?" He asks, looking doubtfully towards the bed. 

Arya giggles and Gods he wants to hear her make that sound over and over again.   
"I have Lord Gendry."  
He chuckles, his dick springs to attention at it's mention.  
"Though you're right, you want fit under there so to the closest."  
"You can't be serious?"  
"Now!"|  
Still chuckling, Gendry hides in the closet at Arya receives her unexpected guest.   
"Good morning Princess Arya," A sing song voice cuts through the air and Gendry can imagine the girl bowing before his lady.   
"Good morning Lady Mergeary." Arya's tone is more curt and Gendry has to hold back a snigger. 

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."   
Yes.  
"Not at all."  
"Excellent. It's such a lovely day, I was wondering if you would like to take a turn with me in the garden."  
Gendry wants her to say no but knows she can't without it looking strange."  
"Of course lady Margeary. Allow me some time to dress into something more appropriate."  
"I'll see you down by the water gardens."

More niceties are exchanged before Arya opens the door to his confinement.   
"How much time do we have?" He asks, breathing heavily.   
"Five minutes?"  
"That's all I need."  
Picking her up, he carries her to the bed and makes quick work of taking off her breeches. Gendry groans when he finds her completely bare underneath. He buries his face between her legs as he sucks and licks, drinking in her essence. His tongue slips into her and she arches up off the bed. Using his arm, he holds her down by the hips and circles her nib with his thumb. He doesn't take it slow as he fucks her with his tongue. Inserting two fingers straightaway, he pumps them into her cunt till she's screaming at him. With a devilish grin, he takes her nub into his mouth and that is her undoing. 

She comes screaming his name, her face flushed, her breast heaving and her hair a wild mess. This is the way she should always look. 

"I love you."

The words escape him before he can stop them. He can't help it though. He loves her, her wildness and stubbornness and refusal to confine to what others require of her. She kept him going when nothing else would. When he'd heard of her death, he blamed himself, everyday.   
She looks at him tenderly before responding with a small smile.

"I love you."

 

 

 

 


	9. Winter Roses

**Ned**

 Despite the long winter, Dorne is warm. Ned cannot fathom how much his Northern sister must hate this heat. Lyanna has always favoured the cold. The Tower of Joy stands tall against the Dornish sky. The meagre guards that guard the tower have yet to spot him and his companions. To his right rides Howland Reed, Lord William Dustin and Ethan Glover. By his left is Martyn Cassel, Theo Wull and Ser Mark Ryswell. All of them are good men. 

 Finally the three members of the kingsguard, the men guarding the tower, see them. Ned recognises Lord Commander Gerold Hightower, Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Oswell Whent. Ned dismounts from his horse and with the rest of his companions, approaches the guards. 

 “I looked for you on the Trident,” Ned said to them.  
“We were not there,” Ser Gerold answered.  
“Woe to the Usurper if we had been,” said Ser Oswell.  
“When King's Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your king with a golden sword, and I wondered where you were.”  
“Far away,” Ser Gerold said, “or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in seven hells.”

 “I came down on Storm's End to lift the siege,” Ned told them, and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them.”  
“Our knees do not bend easily,” said Ser Arthur Dayne.  
“Ser Willem Darry is fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him.”  
“Ser Willem is a good man and true,” said Ser Oswell.  
“But not of the Kingsguard,” Ser Gerold pointed out. “The Kingsguard does not flee.”

 “Then or now,” said Ser Arthur. He donned his helm.  
“We swore a vow,” explained old Ser Gerold.  
Ned’s wraiths moved up beside him, with shadow swords in hand. They were seven against three.  
“And now it begins,” said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light.  
“No,” Ned said with sadness in his voice. “Now it ends.” 

 The fight is a quick but bloody one. The guards hold their own, taking down five of them till only Howland and Ned are left. Ser Arthur Dayne is the last to die. Ned takes no pleasure in taking his life. He was a good knight, he'd simply put his faith in the wrong King. The blood of his Bannerman soaks the soil and carefully, Ned manoeuvres around it so not to step upon his fallen brothers. Howland remains behind to see if there's anything that can be done but he knows, as does Ned, that they are gone. Ned makes his way through the tower, the few servants and maids that had been brought, are cowering in corner's and nooks, coughing up blood. They're all dying. Plague? Ned climbs the stairs faster. 

 "Lyanna!"  
Each turn is torture as it brings him closer to the truth. Is his sweet sister alive?  
"Lyanna!"

 Finally he comes upon a door at the top of the stairs. Ned pushes it open to find Lyanna upon a bed, surrounded by roses.   
"Lyanna," he breathes her name out like a prayer. He approaches the bed.  
His sister is pale with sweat falling down her brow and light breaths falling from her lips.   
"Ned?"  
"Lyanna, what is it? What's wrong with you? What's wrong with the staff? Lyanna what's happening?"   
Hes afraid to touch her in case he hurts her. He needs to know how he can save her.   
"I had to do it Ned. I had to protect him." 

 Protect him? Protect who? Robert? Rhaegar? He can't think, not in this room that smells of blood and roses. Not when his sister is dying. Suddenly he hears a cry cut through the fog of confusion and Ned turns to notice the cradle that he had not noticed there before. Inside, Ned finds a babe, reaching up for its mother. Ned turns away from the child to Lyanna. She's not dying for the same reason as the servants. Their skin had a sickly purple hue and they wept blood. Lyanna is dying of a fever, most likely due to complications from child birth. 

 "Promise me Ned. Promise me you'll take care of Jon."  
He notices the roses, truly sees them for the first time and realises the poisonous properties within them when prepared correctly. Suddenly Ned understands, his sixteen year old sister had poisoned the entire household so that their would be no witnesses to claim this child's existence.  So this babe won't be hunted by Robert for the rest of its life. 

 "I swear."  
Lyanna smiles, that's all she wanted to hear. She just wanted to know that her son would be safe.  
"Forgive me."  
Neds heart breaks a little.  
"Lyanna, there is nothing to forgive."  
She nods, her tongue darting out to lick her dried and cracked lips. Suddenly her eyes glaze over and she looks ahead at something he can't see.  
"Forgive me. I don't love. I don't think I ever loved you. You were just a rebellion against a marriage I was not ready for. I'm sorry. Forgive me."

 "Lyanna?"  
He approaches her, placing a hand upon her clammy cheek, hot from the tears that stream freely from her eyes.   
Her grey eyes meet his and she gives him a small feint smile, "Promise me Ned."   
Lyanna Stark exhales her last breath before her eyes close and the Old Gods embrace her.   
Ned doesn't know how long he stays there, kneeling at his sisters side, till Howland appears.   
"Ned, I'm so sorry." 

 The Lord says nothing. He rises from his sisters side and turns towards the cradle where his burden lay. Picking the child up from its crib, he holds Jon to him.   
"I slept with a tavern wench, she bore my child. The girl cannot afford to keep the child and he deserves a good life, even if he's a bastard."  
Howland nods, understanding that this secret can change the future of the kingdoms. He will take this secret to his grave.   
They bury the dead, leaving stones from the tower as markers for their graves. With the child and the corpse of his sister, Ned takes them back to Winterfell where his wife, Catlyn, and his son, Rob, await. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon P.O.V in the next chapter!
> 
> Once again a short chapter but I felt like the raid on the Tower of Joy would be the excellent moment to end Lyanna and Rhaegars story and begin the great Stark secret. What did you guys think of Lyanna's deathbed confession?


	10. Ours is the Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An entire year has passed and Gendry has been getting used to being a Lord as Arya accumulates to being a princess. Sansa has left Kings Landing to marry Trystane Martell. Prince Jon is engaged to Margaery Tyrell. Cersei has gathered the remaining few House Lannister supporters to wage a rebellion against the dragon queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah the final chapter of my first fan fiction. I'm not sure if I'm ever going to write another long one and might stick to one shots. No wonder there are so many unfinished works, this is exhausting. I really hope you guys enjoy the conclusion. I've written this note before I started writing the chapter so at the stage at which I am writing these words, I still have no idea how this ends.

**Prince Jon Targaryen**

 

"Then we burn them down! I have three dragons!" His aunt thunders, causing several people to shiver. Daenery's Targaryen can be a very intimidating woman and she is not at all pleased with the damage that the Lannister bitch is doing to their people. Villages are being burnt to the ground and more houses are joining their cause. Jon looks towards Tyrion and Varys and knows that if it hadn't been for their smart thinking, they'd be fighting the Stormlands as well. Lord Gendry has proven to be an excellent ally and re-created the Stormlands. In a year, his house has been responsible for all of the crowns arms and weaponry as well as supplying swords and armor to Castle Black.   
  
"We can't do that, we'll be killing hundreds of men." Lord Mormont protests.   
"Men who raised arms against me." The queen reminds him, her nostrils flaring like her dragons when they're about to breathe fire.   
Jon waits, they'll argue for an hour and once all the stupid things are said, he'll offer his opinion. Best not to do it whilst the queen is angry though, she's more likely to reject an idea. He imagines that she'll call for a break soon and wonder off, discuss the situation with one of them, listen to their advice and then come back, having decided to do the exact opposite of what was advised.   
  
He tunes out for most of the arguing and looks towards his half-brother. Aegon doesn't seem to be paying attention either, instead he's playing with a silver ribbon that Jon is sure, he'd seen on Arya's tunic the other day. 

He's happy that Arya and Aegon have grown closer over the year but he's not sure that his sis-cousin is happy. She smiles and laughs more but not like she used to. Jon almost never wants to know what happened to Arya during the war. He's best believing that time had frozen for her and no evil had touched her. At least she hadn't had to face the Night King. Another issue that his aunt should be addressing. Cersei Lannister will be the least of their problems if The White Walkers make it over the wall. Her dragons may take out the Others but they are no match for the White Walkers.

Jon had written to Bran, asking for his advice. He never thought that he'd be asking his brother for advice about how to fight a mystical force that was only supposed to exist in Old Nans tales. His brother had told him to be patient. The Night King is growing impatient and will lash out soon. The return of dragons have ruined his plans. His entire army will be wiped out in the space of a single dragons breath.   
"What are your thoughts?" Jon looks up to find his aunts purple eyes looking into his.   
He looks down upon the map before all of them and examines the positions before him.   
Suddenly he considers the likelihood of killing two birds with one arrow.   
"We push them past the Riverlands, use Lord Arryn's and Lord Stark's forces to usher and push them further North. If the cold doesn't kill them then the Wildling forces that are loyal to this crown and the monsters beyond the wall will."  
"You're suggesting that we herd her army like cattle, to the Night King?" His aunt asks with an eyebrow raised in doubt.   
"Won't it build his army?" Queen Asha asks, looking at Jon.   
"That's what we have dragons for."  
  
Slowly his plan is developed by some of the greatest military and strategic minds in Westeros. Jon doesn't even notice Aegon leave the room. 

**Princess Arya Targaryen**

"How was the council meeting?" She asks her husband who'd just stormed into the room.  
"They just ensured that this war will last another year. If they just let me ride Viseryon, I would burn the Lannister army to the ground and this matter would be over in a matter of days."  
Arya rolls her eyes. Aegon is a fool who has never been in a real battle. Daenerys had kept him far away from the fighting when they first invaded Westeros. Arya questions if the boy has even ever killed a man.   
"Yes you'd burn down their armies along with farms and villagers and you'd starve your people."  
Aegon looks at her furiously but puts his anger aside as she returns his fury with her own. She had spent the past year making Aegon understand that she refuses to just be some pretty wife that will suck his cock, give him children and then turn a blind eye as he fucks younger women.   
Aegon sits on the edge of their bed, head in his hands, "I hate not doing anything."  
Arya wants to tell him that now he knows how she feels, being denied a seat at the council. Instead she sits beside him and runs her fingers through his silver hair.   
  
"Just because you're not in the thick of the fight, doesn't mean you're not doing anything. You're making decisions that impact the realm. That is something."  
He always needs reassurance, for her to remind him how important he is but she can never take it too far lest he becomes too confident and believes that it should be him, sitting on the Iron Throne. She kisses him on the temple and rises to get changed into her sparring gear.   
"Where are you going?"  
"To meet Grey Worm, he wishes to teach me some new maneuvers."  
This seems to displease Aegon but Arya ignores her husband as she grabs needle and heads for the door.   
  
After Gendry left, Aegon became more relaxed. He most likely believed that he no longer had to worry about a threat. Aegon doesn't understand that Gendry is embedded within Arya. He knows about her many faces and has seen her at her worst. Gendry has always known who she is and had loved her for it. They claim that he is a stag but he will always be her bull. A more relaxed Aegon has fared better for Arya. He has been good to her and patient. It took months before she let him bed her. He'd been gentle and the pain had been almost non-existent. Arya found herself loving it. She became insatiable. Aegon didn't mind at all and would fuck her till they both couldn't move. Did Arya feel guilty for fucking Aegon whilst loving Gendry? No. After all that she's been through, she doesn't owe anyone anything. Gendry knows that Arya is getting fucked by Aegon, he's her husband and Aegon would be a fool to believe that he owns her heart.   
  
"Good morning Princess," Grey Worm greets her with a bow. She had given up on her requests for him to call her Arya. It just wasn't happening.   
"Grey Worm. What are you going to teach me today?"  
And just like that, Arya falls into doing that what she is best at. Just like Syrio had taught her, a long time ago, her sword is a part of her arm as she twist and dances away from Grey Worm. Whilst she's able to avoid his attacks, Grey Worm is just as gifted at dodging her attacks. It's harder to move in the snow but it has not fallen nearly as deep as it has in Winterfell.   
"You're not paying attention to me. Look where I might be open. Which side do I prefer?" Grey Worm asks in his lilted accent.   
"The right," Arya responds with gritted teeth, lunging at Grey Worm.   
"Very good."  
  
Hours pass by and people come and go to watch the Princess of Westeros, practice swordplay. Once, they would have laughed and maybe even shunned her but now she is the great warrior, Arya Stark who fought for their queen and defeated the King Slayer. Now when people looked, it's because they admired and feared her.   
Arya can feel the beads of sweat, rolling down her back, soaking her tunic, some of it falling from her hairline, into her eyes.   
Grey Worm notices this and ends their practice for the day.   
Happily Arya walks to a nearby animal trough and dumps her head into it. Within the blissful cool of the water, she can hear some of the children's muted laughter.   
There are always a lot of children in the Red Keep. Daenerys encourages that the children come get food from the stalls within the keep. The queen has a soft spot for children and Arya believes that it's foolish.   
  
Shaking her head, she sends splatters of water droplets everywhere. With a toothy grin, she makes her way towards her chambers, relieved to find that Aegon is not there. She calls for the chamber maids, asking that they prepare her a bath. Once she's alone again, Arya closes her eyes and allows the falling sensation to overwhelm her as she wargs into her Nymeria who stayed at Winterfell. A direwolf does not belong in the south.   
Her brother has found some bitch to mate with. The scent offends her so she pads away through the Godswood. She makes her way through the courtyard where most people ignore her, accustomed to the extra direwolf. She happily wags her tail as she makes her way inside the castle and using her nose, finds her mistresses kin.   
  
"Arya?"  
Nymeria recognizes that name and barks happily when Bran utters it.   
"Is that you?"  
Another happy bark.  
"How are things in Kings Landing?"  
Nymeria sits and tilts her head to the side.   
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
The wolf nudges at the mans hand.  
"I miss you too."  
"Woof"  
Bran smiles happily.   
  
"Is Arya warging?" Rickon asks, striding into the room, placing his weapon onto the table. Nymeria knows that she doesn't have to fear the weapon. These people would never ever harm her.   
She wags her tail happily as Rickon scratches her behind the ear.   
"How are things in Kings Landing?"  
Nymeria whines and Rickon gives his brother a curious look.   
"I think the answer to that question is too difficult to convey."  
Rickon looks at her worriedly, "Prince Aegon is treating you right?"  
Nymeria wags her tale so the boys find that a good sign.   
  
After some more pleasantries are exchanged, Arya begins to find herself slipping into her wolf and know's that it's time to warg back. With a final bark, Arya returns to Kings Landing just in time for a servant to tell her that her bath is ready. Even after a year, Arya still is accustomed to the luxurious baths of the Red Keep. Sinking into the hot waters, she makes quick work of washing the sweat from her body and rinsing her hair. Dressing in tight leather breeches and a knee length tunic, Arya braids back her wet hair, just as someone knocks on her door.   
  
"Arya, it's me, Jon."  
Her heart catches in her throat. Never, even during her month in the Red Keep before she returned to Winterfell, had Jon come to visit her. Their short and awkward reunion had been bittersweet as he was no longer her brother and they both no longer knew each other. They both wanted the other to be as they once were but Jon is not as warm as he used to be and Arya is not as hopeful or innocent. The last ten years had changed them.   
She didn't call him in but opened the door for him herself.   
Stepping into her chambers he looked at her, starting from her breeches to her tunic before throwing his arms around her and spinning her around the room. Taken aback, Arya laughs and smiles none the less.   
"Gods I've missed you."  
He hasn't let go yet, holding her close.   
"I haven't gone anywhere Jon. I've been here for an entire year."  
  
Sighing, Jon puts her down.   
"I know. I've been an ass but Gods Arya, it was, it is hard seeing you like this. You're a reminder of how many years we lost because of the Lannisters. Last I saw of you, you were so small and young. Looking at you as a grown woman, with a husband and a lover, it was difficult to believe that you were still that same girl."  
Arya stopped listening at 'lover', a panicked look in her eye.   
"Lover?" She squeaks.   
Jon gives her a small smile, patting her on the head like he used to back then.   
"I may not have been very brotherly to you but I've been still watching over you. It wasn't difficult to notice what was happening between you and the Baratheon."   
"You know about Gendry?"  
"Aye."  
  
"Is that why you came here?"  
"No," he smiles, "I wanted to see my cousin."  
Arya grins and decides to tell him about her warg and how Rickon and Bran are faring. Jon laughs and smiles, he had not had the opportunity to see his brothers. After he'd been betrayed by his brothers in the Nights Watch, he'd gone to Kings Landing to rally help to defeat the others, only to find Daenerys had taken over.   
The sun had set whilst they talked and only stopped when they were interrupted by Aegon walking into the room.   
He looked both relieved and confused about finding Jon in their rooms.   
Looking straight at his half-brother, ignoring Arya, he looked at Jon, "Small Council meeting, now."

**Queen Daenerys Targaryen**

 

"I want to know how they made it past our armies," Dany asks, seated at the head of the table. She's trying to remain calm and level headed. Adopting a straight-backed posture with her hands folded in her lap, she's trying to look as in control as she can. She has come too far to lose it all now.   
"We'd underestimated their numbers. They'd split into three and spread our army wide." Queen Asha Greyjoy responds.  
"And now they march on the Stormlands." It's not a question so nobody responds to the queen.   
"Why would they attack the Stormlands before attacking us?" Her nephew asks and Dany finds herself considering, for what must be the hundredth time, why she let Aegon on the Small Council.  
"To surround us."  
The voice that responds is unfamiliar to the council but wholeheartedly welcome.  
  
Arya Stark strides in, looking as if she's ready for battle.  
"Is it alright if I sit in on the council meeting, Your Highness?"  
"Council meeting are only for council members," Lord Jorah Mormont responds.  
Arya turns to him, "Lord Mormont, congratulations on becoming King of the Seven Kingdoms, I can only imagine that is why you replied when the question had been directed at our monarch."  
Tyrion smirks into his wine cup, Jon and Aegon smile proudly whilst Dany finds the corner of her mouth twitching. She had been surprised when Aegon had told her that Arya had no interest in sitting on the council.  
"Lord Mormont, as the Princess has so kindly pointed out, that question had been aimed at me and I encourage Arya's voice on the council."  
Arya looks slightly surprised but pleased none the less.  
  
She takes a seat beside her husband and Missandei.  
"What's your input, Princess?" Lord Tyrion asks, sipping from his cup.  
Arya looks at Dany but addresses the whole council, "They've stretched our army thin but have also done the same to their own which is why they have not attacked the Reach. Possibly they hope to secure an alliance with Highgarden as Margaery's and Jon's betrothal has not yet become known the public. They surround us by attacking the Riverlands and Stormlands but have allowed for a fateful mistake. Let the people of the Riverlands, the Eyrie and the North defend the Riverlands whilst you retreat your army to protect the Crownlands. Allow Cersei to go deep into the Stormlands with her Army, as deep as Storms End and then have Lord Baratheon defend his land whilst Dorne and Highgarden come to their aid."  
Grey Worm is quick to point out an issue in the Princess's plan, "A third of their army has taken back the Westernlands, if Highgarden lends it's army to Storms End, who will protect Highgarden?"  
  
Her nephew Jon has a response for that, "The combined forces of the North, the Riverlands and the Eyrie could defeat their pitiful army in days. Seagard and Harrenhall could come to the defense of Highgarden."  
"Is that enough to defend the Reach?" Lord Mormont asks.  
"I think that no matter how brilliant this plan is, Cersei has already taken all of this into account. Our actions are too obvious. She is too smart to have made such a stupid move." Missandei observes.   
"Desperation can make people stupid," Asha contributes.  
"Not my sister. My sister becomes fiercer when she is backed into a corner. Missandei is right. This all might be a trap."  
"What other choice do we have?" Dany asks.

****

Dany is the last to leave the great hall when Arya approaches her.  
"I have a request to ask of you."  
"You were great help at the council meeting today Arya, you may ask."  
"I wish to go and help defend the Stormlands."  
Dany sighs, she suspected that a request such as this may come. She was hoping Arya would not be so foolish.  
"You want to help the Baratheon."  
Arya looks as if though she is about to protest but the queen raises her hand, "I have taken enough lovers to know what it looks like. I was pleased when you didn't do anything foolish when I sent him away, even more so when you did not show any sign of carrying a babe but Arya, I cannot allow you to go fight alongside him. I cannot lose the woman who will one day carry heir to the Iron Throne."  
The initial surprise on Arya's face fades as she scoffs, "Aegon can marry someone else if I die. This has nothing to do with Gendry-" Dany raises a skeptical eyebrow "- and everything to do with the fact that I am one of the best generals in the Seven Kingdoms. Up until a year ago, Gendry was a blacksmith. He may have people their advising him how to be a Lord but how many of them can advise him to defend Storms End as well as I can?"  
  
Dany can't deny the logic. She wishes that Tyrion was here to advise her. A part of her is telling her that sending Arya into the arms of her lover would be foolish but not allowing her to go, would leave the Stormlands defenseless.    
"Try not to do anything stupid."

**Prince Aegon Targaryen**

Everything is slowly falling into plan, soon Arya would be only his, as well as everything he had ever wanted. Already he can see it. Arya round with their child as he fucks her every night and it's only his name she screams, only him that she thinks about. If Cersei's armies don't kill that bastard, his assassins will.   
Arya walks into their chambers and Aegon finds himself swept up in need. Striding over to Arya, he takes her into his arms and slants his mouth over hers.   
"Arya," he moans, spreading his fingers through her long hair.   
She kisses back tentatively, a little meek for her usual style. He tries to goad the vixen within her, hands to her waist and mouth sucking on that delectable bottom lip of hers.  
Gently, she pushes him away, "I have to pack."  
  
Aegon looks at her confused as she steps away and begins looking for her trunk.  
"Pack for what?"  
"War."  
Aegon chortles. His impressionable little wife. His aunt would never let Arya go to war, now that she is a princess.   
"Arya, I know that you were helpful in the war for the Iron Throne but you're of more use here. The sooner we make an heir, the stronger the Targaryen hold on the crown will be."  
Finding her trunk, Arya throws over her shoulder, "If a baby secures the crown, then the crown wasn't very secure to begin with."  
Aegon is starting to get tired of her ridiculous little notions.   
  
"Exactly where are you planning on fighting?"  
"The queen has sent me to go advise Lord Baratheon on how best to defend the Stormlands." She does not look at him and his stomach drops. She's going to _him._ To this day he does not know how is aunt found out about the bastards heritage and whilst Arya suspects him, he hadn't told a soul.   
"I forbid you to go to him."  
"Forbid all you want. A Queens command trumps a husbands insecurities."  
If she hadn't been across the room, he would have slapped her.   
  
"Any child you bear him will be a bastard."  
She turns to him, looking at him as if though if were stupid, "I'm not going to go bear him a child, I'm going to advise him on military tactics."  
Aegon scoffs, "When did that become a euphemism?"  
Arya ignores him and he doesn't like it. He will not be ignored.   
"Doesn't matter anyhow, you have a cursed and barren womb like my aunt. I should have you killed and marry some other peach who will bear me a son."  
Everyone on the Small Council knows that despite being only three and twenty, the Queen cannot bear children. At nine and ten, it seems that neither can Arya. Aegon knows that it cannot be his fault, he is younger then his aunt and only a couple of years older then his wife. He is young, strong and more than capable of producing an heir.  
  
Arya thinks that she managed to hide the hurt but he can see it in her eyes, "It doesn't matter what you say, I'm going. 

**  
Lord Gendry Baratheon**

 

"Two hundred riders have been spotted approaching the castle, they fly the Stark and Targaryen banner."  
  
Arya.   
  
Gendry grins, when he'd received the raven that carried the news of Arya's arrival, he was sure that she Gods were playing a cruel trick on him. Now he runs through Storms End so that he may be outside the portcullis when Arya arrives. He orders the guards to raise it as he approaches. His grin broadens when in the distance, he can see Arya spurring her horse into a gallop. When she's within twenty feet, she dismounts mid trot and sprints right into Gendry's arms. Gods be good, he never thought he'd feel her against him, ever again.   
"Gendry, Gendry, Gendry, Gendry."  
She chants it like a prayer as she buries her face into his chest.   
"Arya my love, it's cold. Let's get inside." He doesn't care that she'll call him stupid for calling her that, she is back in his arms and that's all that matters. This past year has been torture without her.   
  
He leads her inside. He'll let his men deal with the two hundred that Arya had brought. She looks beautiful, her nose and cheeks are red from the cold and some snowflakes have fallen onto her lashes. Ignoring the servants, the guards and his men, he leads her to his chambers and locks them inside.   
Arya laughs as he spins her around, peppering her face with kisses.   
"You look beautiful."  
She rolls her eyes and he knows that she's about to call him stupid so his stops her by kissing her cold lips. He'll have them warm soon. Gently licking at her bottom lip, he deepens their kiss. He needed this. He needed his Arya. Now that he has her, he has no intention of letting her go. Aegon be damned.   
  
"Gendry I really should look at the maps and the battle plans, as well as the -" He cuts her off again, kissing her with unrelenting passion, squeezing her waist as he tries to pull her in closer. Arya growls, cupping his cheeks and digging her nails in. He breathes her in, wishing that he could have her closer, touch more, have more. Gendry hates every night that they spent away from one another. An entire blasted year away from his little wolf. Lifting her by the waist, Gendry slowly carries her through his chambers. Arya wraps her legs around his waist and languidly kisses him, nipping at his lips. Laying her down on his bed, Gendry leans over her on his forearms and loosens her jerkin so that he may sweep aside any clothing that will be in his way so that he may start kissing along her neck, from beneath her jawline to her collarbone.  
"Mmmmm Arya."  
  
Her fingers thread through his hair and he loves it but hates everywhere that she's not touching him.  
"How have you been?" He asks whilst kissing her clavicle.  
Arya scoffs, "I'm a little busy and can't think about anything beyond how much I need you."  
Gendry smiles against her skin as he kisses along her pale breasts. Perfect.  
Her breath hitches as he pushes aside her jerkin, lifts her shirt and latches his mouth onto a nipple, gently sucking and biting. Her nails dig into his scalp and her heels dig into the small of his back. His fierce little wolf. It makes Gendry hard, knowing that he can make Arya pant and squeal beneath him. Knowing that she surrenders herself to him, trusting him to not hurt her but give her pleasure.   
  
Rising up, he strips off his clothes and Arya does the same, all whilst smiling. Grinning broadly, Gendry lays above her and kisses her sweet lips.   
"I am going to make you forget that Aegon ever even looked at you, let alone touched you."  
He's not sure if Arya shivered at his husky tone or his words but he doesn't care, as long as she continues to respond like that to him.   
"Can he make you feel as good as I make you feel?" He asks, reaching for the bundle of nerves between her legs and slowly, he presses on it with his thumb. Arya arches off the bed, her eyes half closed and mouth agape.   
"M'lady?"  
"No. No one. No one."  
He kisses her slowly as he inserts a finger into her. She's soaked.   
  
"Does he make you scream?"  
Arya shakes her head.   
Gendry swells with pride as she cries out in pleasure when he inserts another finger.   
"I haven't been with a single woman since you Arya. I am going to fuck you till you've forgotten the past year and know only me. Do you understand?"  
"Yes Gendry. Please fuck me."  
Gods he got her to beg, the sound sends a shot of pleasure straight to his balls.   
  
Kissing her neck, he removes his hand from between her thighs and positions himself at her entrance. She's slick and hot and Gendry wants to be inside her. Sucking gently on her bottom lip, he eases into her tight entrance. Arya arches into him, her eyes rolling back. Gendry flexes his hips, going in deeper.   
"Gendry."  
"Arya."  
As soon as he knows that she can take all of him, he starts pounding into her, gripping her hip and kissing her sweet lips. Every cry of pleasure urges him on, every time she screams out his name, he goes harder and faster. Arya is finally with him and he's not letting her get away. Nothing feels more right than being inside Arya. It's as if he'd been missing a part of himself.   
  
"Gendry!" Arya screams, too incoherent to say anything else but he knows what she's trying to say. She's about to come undone and Gendry reaches for the apex of her thighs and rubs that little nub that sends her straight over the edge, Gendry with her. Her cunt milks him for all he's worth as she screams out his name and maybe what sounds like a prayer to the old gods.   
Chuckling, Gendry falls on top of her, careful to distribute his weight so that he isn't hurting her.   
"I love you," he murmurs into her hair, kissing her ear.   
"Mmmm..." Is all she can say. 

**Princess Arya Targaryen**

 

Gendry runs his fingers along her back as she purrs happily. Laying across his broad chest, Arya is content to stay there, the Seven Kingdoms be damned. However she has to plan a battle so very reluctantly, she rises from their bed.   
"Mmmm, where are you going?" Gendry asks sleepily. Arya, however, notices that his muscles are coiled so that he's ready to quickly grab her and pull her back into his arms.   
Smiling, she plants a soft kiss on his forehead, "I have a war to fight."  
She tries to quickly bolt of the bed but underestimates how difficult it is to get out from under all those furs and Gendry wraps her right back into his embrace.   
"My bannermen  don't arrive for another couple of days. We have time Arya. In the meantime, I don't want to waste what precious time we have."  
It's tempting to fall back and enjoy the warmth of his body. Being with Gendry makes it feel as if nothing could touch them.   
"I have to have a battle plan ready before they arrive, stupid. Most Lords don't find it very reassuring when their commander doesn't have a plan."  
Gendry sighs, resigning himself to the fact that despite how much they want to stay where they are, they have responsibilities.   
  
With a slow and passionate kiss, he lets her go. Her legs are a little unsteady as she gets out from the bed. She reaches for Gendry's discarded shirt and slips it over her small frame. She can hear Gendry loudly gulp and feels his eyes on her legs. Grinning to herself, she gracefully crosses the room and starts looking for his desk, where she imagines, he keeps the papers that she needs.   
Sitting in the chair that smells perfectly like Gendry, Arya takes a look at the letters and numbers before her. Thanks to both Stannis and Renly, the Stormlands aren't what they used to be. Most of the houses have barely enough men to guard their own castles. This may be a lot more difficult than Arya initially presumed. Thanks to Gendry, they do have plenty of weapons. As a former armorer, Gendry used his knowledge to recruit the best blacksmiths in the land to train and work for houses within the Stormlands, making it the greatest exporter of the finest weapons within a year. Now they just need the men to wield the swords.   
  
Arya thinks about the stories about what happened on the battle of Blackwater Bay. How Tyrion had defeated an entire fleet with a single ship and wildfire. She is Arya of House Stark and she will find a way to conquer the odds.   
  
Gendry steps out of his bedroom, having donned a pair of his breeches. Even out of the corner of her eye, she can see his well defined muscles, the ridges on his stomach and the hair that leads down to his magnificent cock. She can't think.   
Looking up, Arya becomes irritated, "Go get dressed!"  
He grins easily, leaning against the frame of the door, "Distracting you, m'lady?"  
Arya lets out a very un-ladylike grunt and looks back down at the numbers. Stupid bull.   
Chortling, Gendry stands behind her to look over her shoulder.   
"You don't have a lot of men," Arya grumbles.   
"This is what you got out of bed for? I could have told you that."  
Fighting back a smile, Arya rolls out a map of the Stormlands and begins pointing out areas to Gendry.  
  
"See this? We need to block off the South end mountain pass between the river so that they can't go through there and surround us. Four houses occupy that area beyond the mountain range. Would they agree to defend it?"  
"I'm sure they will," Gendry murmurs boredly, nipping at her ear. It feels good and Arya wishes she can lean back and allow him to nip and kiss all along her neck till they're back in his bed but she's in General mode now.   
Swatting him away, she asks, "Sure? Gendry, I need to know for certain."  
"And you will, when all the lords arrive."  
  
Sighing, Arya rests her head in her hands, "I don't want you to lose the Stormlands because of me."  
Gendry kneels beside her and starts softly stroking her hair, "Alright, do what you need to do, my army is at your command, just remember Arya that losing the Stormlands will compare to nothing if I lose you. Make sure you keep yourself alive."  
Leaning into his caress, she looks into those blue eyes, "Only if you promise to do the same."

"Now tell me what your letters could not. I understood why you had to keep it formal but now I want to know everything about princess Arya."

He nuzzles her neck from behind, giving it a quick kiss. Arya gasps but remains angry enough to respond to his remark, "Don't call me that!"

He licks the column of her neck and it feels so good, she bites her neck and lets her head roll back a little.

"Call you what? Arya? I thought that's your name."

She growls in response but doesn't stop him from nibbling on her ear and reaching into the front of her -his- shirt. 

"Princess," she grunts.

"No Arya, I'm a Lord."

Gods she's going to kill him.... Once he stops circling her nipples like that as he nibbles on her ear. 

"Stupid Bull."

He chuckles and it feels so good against her skin. 

"Now tell me how you've spent the past year entertaining yourself, or I'll stop." 

The whine she lets out is similar to that of when Nymeria wants to be stroked. 

"How am I supposed to bloody concentrate when you're doing this?!" She turns her head to bite him but he moves his head in time and gives her breast a hard squeeze.

"I don't know, you're the assassin, you tell me."

No one has ever spoken so calmly about what Arya was before she joined Deanerys. Even the queen avoided the word after the fighting was done. Yet here Gendry was saying it as if though all the people she killed, don't matter. Treating her as if she weren't a monster. 

"Fighting. Grey Worm -you met him, he is the leader of the City Watch- well he taught me his way of fighting. I'm getting good at it too. I've been considering about asking the queen, if she would permit it, to maybe visit some of the islands and lands of Essos that I have not yet seen. I'd love to master their fighting styles, spend some time learning their ways..." Even as she says it, she knows that it'll never happen. 

Gendry sighs, he'd come to the same conclusion that she had. "I should have gone to Braavos with you. We could have travelled Essos together, never come back to this." 

He moves away from her so that he may lean against his desk and look down at her. 

"I fucked up."

"I ran away."

"I hated the idea of being considered your family."

"Not when I'd always be considered your lady," Arya smiles ruefully. He carasses her cheek and tilts her head to look up at him. 

"Tell me more."

So she did. She told him everything, about how she's been following the war, befriending Missendai to learn what's happening on the Small Council -and because Missandei is a fantastic person-, she told him about how crazy and pent up Aegon had been getting... "-the fucking has been plenty satisfying-" Gendry growls, a dark look crossing his face. Oops. It's so easy to talk to Gendry and tell him everything that she'd let that one slip out. 

She juts out her chin, "I don't know what you were expecting. He's my husband, of course he's going to fuck me-"

Gendry crushes his lips upon hers, gripping her cheeks and forcing his tongue into her mouth. Arya moans, falling into the kiss and entangles her fingers into his messy hair.

"I thought I'd fucked any memory of that cunt, out of you," he growls against her lips.

Smiling she responds, "You'll just have to try again."

He drags her out of the chair by the front of her -his- shirt and slams her against the front of his chest, "With pleasure, m'lady."

 

***

The men are nervous but she isn't. Her blood pumps through her veins and thrums is her ears. Gendry had been right, when the Lords arrived, they all agreed it would be in everyone's best interest to listen to Arya Stark, the wolf that won the South. Gendry is mounted on his destrier beside her. He looks less uncomfortable on horse back than he was all those years ago.   
"Will you be alright on that?" Arya asks, gesturing to the horse.   
"Who? Bull? Nah, I'll be fine m'lady."  
What stupid man would name a horse after himself? Arya looks at the beast apprehensively. A huge horse to accommodate Gendry's large size.  
She turns to look upon the Lannister army that is facing them.

Five thousand strong, they are outnumbered two to one. Arya just hopes that her plan works. Gendry reaches over and grips her hand but Arya refuses to look back over at him. She will not say goodbye. Instead she silently sends up a prayer to her God, "Not today."  
From the opposing armies ranks break out two horses, flying a parley flag.   
"It could be a trap." One of Gendry's lords murmur. Arya doesn't doubt it. Cersei is not one to respect the rules of parley.   
"I am lord of the Stormlands. I will go." Gendry spurs his horse forward before Arya can voice her opinion. His squire follows him dutifully and turning her head towards two of his other lords, she gestures that they follow. Arya looks at her own squire, "Hand me my bow."  
  
As he hands it over, she notches an arrow and aims towards the Two men meeting with Gendry. One wrong move and she fires. Doesn't matter how far away she is. As they meet in the middle, Arya can vaguely make out the two figures. She recognizes neither but both seem to have the golden hair typical for a Lannister. She imagines that they also have green eyes. Words that Arya cannot hear are being exchanged and it rattles Arya that she's not with them. What happens next is so subtle, Arya almost misses it. One of the Lannister envoys, glances at her. It's not a wary or interested look. No it's an analyzing look that she recognizes. It's in that second that she realizes Gendry will die. With her legs she spurs her horse forward, not taking her eyes off of the man. She can see it now, as she gets closer, she sees the tell tale signs of a mask. Arya keeps her arrow aimed at him but as Jaqen h'ghar notices her riding towards them, he takes out his dagger and sends it flying through the air towards Gendry. Arya lets her arrow loose, drops her bow and spurs her horse into a hard gallop, her army roaring behind her. She doesn't pay attention on whether or not her arrow hit its mark, all that matters is that Gendry is still alive.   
  
The lords have begun to fight the envoys and the Lannister army is on the charge. Arya dismounts and runs to Gendry's side. Jaqen is about to make another attempt on Gendry's life and despite the arrow in his shoulder, Gendry is doing a mighty job of holding him off. Arya steps between the two and greets Jaqen, "Valar Morghulis."  
"Valar Dohaeris."  
"Who paid you?"  
"A man cannot reveal such things."  
"A man will die."  
"If the many faced god wishes it so."  
Arya smiles a cruel smile and draws her sword, "The God of death wishes it so."  
There swords meet and their armies clash around them but Arya is focused on Jaqen. One wrong move and she is dead. Swinging, pivoting and jabbing, she does all that she can to get past his defenses but he's just a second faster than her.   
  
"A girl has come far."  
"A girl will go further," she grunts.   
She pushes harder, dodging the attacks and out of the corner of her eye, keeping an eye on Gendry who is swinging his hammer in full force and looking glorious. She will not let him die. She will not lose the Stormlands. She is Arya Stark and she will bring death and destruction upon those who hurt her loved ones. She will kill them all. With that final thought, she finds the weak spot in Jaqen's armor and pierces it, jabbing the heart. Jaqen falls to his knees and Arya uses her blade to slit his throat and make sure he stays dead.   
Turning away, she returns to the battle, panicked as she watches their men fall. They're losing. Where are the reinforcements? Mud splatters up onto her face as a horse gallops towards her, she cuts it down along with its rider. Everywhere she turns there is death and someone heading towards her. She fights them all of, striking them all down, one by one. Yet they enclose upon her and Arya knows that her god will not answer her prayer, not today.   
  
"I am Arya Stark of Winterfell and I will not fall gracefully," she whispers, ready to die in battle.

A roar overhead causes them all to look up and some even scream as they see the hulking mass that is Viserion. She looks towards the white and gold dragon as he casts a shadow over half the army. Upon his back is Aegon who with one command causes the dragon to reign it's fire over the Lannister and partially Baratheon army. She doesn't notice a spear headed her way and would have died, had it not been for Gendry pushing her out of the way, so that it sails over their heads. Landing on top of one another, Gendry kisses her cheek, "You shot an arrow in me."

She kisses him on the lips, briefly, "To save you, stupid bull."  
Grinning, he helps her up and watches the dragon descend and land several hundred feet away. "We have time to run," he suggests.  
Arya snorts, "From a dragon?"  
"If he touches you, I'm smashing him in the face with my hammer."   
"How very Baratheon of you." 

Aegon seems to be looking around for someone and Arya doesn't have to be a maester to know who. 

Arya is about to walk over to him when she's surprised by a Lannister envoy beating her to it. Suddenly all her training tells her to get low and just watch. Gendry follows suit. Half the army has been burnt to a crisp and the other half has retreated. Even the Baratheon soldiers. There's hardly a soul in sight, amongst the repugnant smell of fresh and burning corpses. The Lannister envoy hands a letter to Aegon, which he reads and quickly throws into a nearby thicket of bushes that was burning nearby. Arya has to know what's on that letter.

"Stay," she commands Gendry before getting up and becoming a part of the billowing smoke, the shadows cast by the clouds and the ground itself. Silently she creeps till she's stepping over Viserion's tail as the Lannister envoy leaves for his camp and Aegon mounts Viserion. The fool cannot see her. Quickly, as fast as a viper, her hand jabs into the fire and retrieves the burnt parchment. It's completely black and her heart skinks. Viserion takes off and heads into the direction of Storms End, most likely hoping to be received by Gendry, as if he would not be upon the plains of his own battlefield. Looking at the paper, Arya tries to decipher what it says. Gendry appears beside her.

"Would you like me to try?"  
Arya looks at him curiously.  
"Tobho was literate and would write customer orders on paper. Not smart seeming a forge has fire everywhere. A lot of it would get burnt and I'd be forced to try and decipher it."  
She hands it over to Gendry who for a couple of minutes, peers at it.  
"Arya this isn't good."  
"Why?"  
"Your husband is planning on over throwing the queen. 

 

   
**Lord Gendry Baratheon**

 

He thought he truly hated Aegon when that royal prick married Arya. After having read that note, Gendry hates him for endangering her. If the queen suspected that Arya was involved in the plot, her head would be beside Aegon's on the chopping block. Gendry could smash his head open for being so stupid. Allying himself with Cersei Lannister, the bitch that is responsible for the death of almost the entire Stark family. They storm into the castle, Gendry easily outpacing Arya with his longer legs. He throws open the doors of the great hall where Aegon is waiting to be received.  
"You fucking idiot! You traitorous bastard! Do you realize what you could have done!" Gendry strides right up to the prince and grabs him by the front of his jerkin. He shakes the pompous brat, ready to kill him. Aegon's knights have drawn their swords but so have Gendry's and Arya's men.   
"Gendry that's enough!" Arya yells and it's only her voice that quells the fury inside. He tosses the prince away from him and looks at the little shit in disdain.   
  
"When does Cersei arrive with her armies?" Arya asks, standing beside Gendry. Just being near her causes the pounding of his blood to cease to a thrum.   
Aegon looks between the two of them, anger turning into confusion which soon becomes realization.   
"So you know."  
The anger is back, "Yes, we know. I am going to watch your head rot on a spike."  
Aegon laughs, "You foolishly presume that I'm going to let you live."  
"The numbers are in our favor, I don't imagine how you're planning on killing us."  
"Cersei. She's going to be here soon, just within the hour," Arya guesses and from the smug look on Aegon's face, they know she's right.   
  
Aegon turns his violet eyes onto Arya, "Dear sweet wife. I will spare your life and that of your family, if you come with me now."  
He stretches his hand out to her and Gendry is ready to break it. Instead he's surprised when he sees her take it. He looks at Arya to see if she's serious but her grey eyes are on Aegon.   
"You will leave my family alone."  
"Yes."  
Arya lets go of his hand and takes a step back, with a small smile she says, "You wouldn't be able to take them if you tried."  
  
The doors of the great hall burst open once more and through it arrived Rickon Stark, clutching a severed head in his hand. The Young Wolf growls as he tosses it as Aegon's feet. Green eyes. Golden hair.   
"Her armies aren't coming."  
"But the Dornish ones are," Sansa walks, dressed in traditional Dornish attire, looking as beautiful as ever.   
Aegon looks at them with wide eyes, stumbling back. His own knights have lowered their swords, ready to accept defeat.   
"How?"  
"You do really think Lord Brandon Stark would allow another Stark girl to a Targaryen without watching him closely? Our aunt died, Arya will not. He has been watching you and he has seen your treachery." Sansa holds his gaze, a cold look in the Northerners eyes.   
Gendry looks to Arya to see if she already knew about all of this but she is not looking at him. She is watching Aegon like prey.   
"What you failed to understand, dear husband, is wolves hunt in packs. You're going to die and I'm going to enjoy watching."  
  
Aegon is foolish enough to try and make a run for it but Gendry is faster. Tackling him to the ground, Gendry sends fist after fist to the prince's face until Rickon and some of his men have to pull him off. He turns to Arya, "How long have you known?"  
"A day after the queen sent me a letter commanding me to marry him. Brandon saw what was to pass."  
Breathing hard, Gendry looks at her, not knowing if he's truly seeing her, "Why didn't you tell me?"  
"We'll discuss this later."  
They bound Aegon and began their journey to Kings Landing.

 

**Lady Arya Stark**

 

In the end she didn't watch his execution. She didn't care much for it. Instead she occupied her mind with packing her things and preparing for the journey North. The queen agreed that marrying Arya to Jon would be a wasted endeavor.  
There's a knock on the door.   
"Come in."  
Gendry enters the room and takes a look at how empty it looks now that Aegon's things have been handed out to the poor and Arya's have been packed away.  
"Are you here to tell me to reconsider your proposal?"  
Gendry crosses his arms, knowing that it makes them bulge. Arya hates it when he does that, makes it hard to think.   
"Seven hells Arya, you make marriage to me sound like a death sentence."  
  
She sighs but doesn't stop her packing.  
"That's not why I'm here."  
"Oh?" She raises an eyebrow. 

"You told me that you'd explain to me, why you didn't tell me that you knew about Aegon. Why didn't you tell me Arya?"

Arys sighs. He'd already asked her this when they'd returned. She told him she'd tell him later. He told her she could take all the time in the world, he would have all the time in the world, if she agreed to marry him. Another marriage, even one to Gendry, just seemed like another form of imprisonment. Despite a large portion of her heart wanting to say yes, she knew that she had to say no. 

"I decided not to tell you because you're a stupid stubborn bull who would have charged in and tried to kill Aegon, when you were just a bastard, had no proof and the action would have resulted in your beheading for treason." 

Her hands shake a little as she grabs Howner, a light yet large sword that Gendry had made for her. It's larger than Needle with perfect balance. Arya knows that Gendry must have spent months perfecting it for her. The pommel is made of a howling wolf and descendeds upon the metal like claws, coming from the wolfs neck. Taking a whetstone, she begins to sharpen the metal, not looking up at her lover. Gendry simply leans against the post of her bed, one ankle crossed over the other and his arms folded across his wide chest. He watches lazily as she strokes the edge of the sword with the stone. 

"You're right. I would have killed the bastard."

Arya doesn't respond. She knows she's right. She knows Gendry. Bloody Baratheon's and their fury. She had no intention of ending up dead like her aunt, it seems that any love between a Stark and a Baratheon, doesn't bode well for the stark.   
"You're planding on visiting Essos after you've taken care of what needs to be done in Winterfell. I have a cousin who will be able to fill in for me as Lord. Let me come with you."  
Arya looks up from her sword at him and for a moment, allows herself to hope.   
"The queen would never allow it."  
Gendry grins, "She already has."  
  
He strides over to her and is about to embrace her but she holds him off, Howler pointed at his chest, "Gendry wait. We'll be spending six moons in Winterfell. Maybe ten and then we're leaving for Gods know how long. Are you sure?"  
Gendry responds by pushing the sword aside and kissing her deeply and thoroughly. Arya mewls into his mouth clutching at his hair. Her legs wrap around his waist as he lifts her up. His big hands grip her ass as her fingers dig into his cheekbones, trying to breathe in the very essence that was him. She could try to deny it but her heart knows better. She loves this man and will let him follow her anywhere. She can feel the hard length of him pressed against her and moans as Gendry thrusts his tongue into her mouth. She fights him with her tongue, pushing him back and trying to take control. Just like Arya is the better fighter, Gendry is the better kisser and he has her panting his name as one hand snakes between them to reach into her suddenly unlaced breeches and feel the slickness of her. He growls his approval as his fingers start playing with the bundle of nerves. 

"G G Gendry," she chokes out as her back arches, pressing her breasts to his chest. He slams her against the wall, eliciting another moan. His eyes burn with desire as takes his hand out - she whimpers in protest - and sets her on the ground. Arya looks like she's about to say something when Gendry peels off her breeches, her socks and makes work of her jerkin. Arya unlaces his breeches and pushes them down his hips. They undress each other until Gendry's eyes are roaming her naked body, devouring her with them. He crushes them back against the wall and kisses her with passion, threading his fingers into her long dark hair, gently pulling on it and it makes her more wet. His mouth on her neck and shoulder, biting and kissing, drives her from the edge of sanity. His cock nudges at her entrance and she so badly wants him inside of her. 

"I've wanted to kiss you ever since Acorn Hill when you wore that stupid dress. Gods seeing you in it made my head heavy. Having you under me when I tickled you was torture. I wanted to kiss you. Your lips were a little blue from the cold and I wanted to kiss colour back into them. I knew if I tried anything, I'd lose you forever," Gendry confesses into her collarbone, his head resting there as he tweaked her nipple, loving it every time she gasped, sighed or shuddered. 

"We were too young. You especially. I shouldn't have thought about you like that but when I saw you that night you returned to Winterfell... Gods Arya, I'd already know that I loved you but when I saw you. I knew I would follow in my stupid fathers footsteps and go to war for you. You were so beautiful, so womanly. Gods Arya I thought you'd never grow to be a woman. I always pictured you as a child but when I saw you that night."

He bites her teat as if to prove a point. Her head hits the wall as she throws it back to cry out. His words are making her head feel light and his actions are bringing her body alight. 

"I should have known, I didn't have the power to resist you. That night, whilst you slept in my bed, I dreamt of fucking you. Every time I saw you, I got hard, every fucking time."

She is so slick and wet that the tip of his cock slips inside of her. Gendry lets out a low groan as stars explode behind his eye lids. Arya's nails grip his shoulders and dig in. She isn't  concerned about hurting him. Gendry will take whatever she gives him. Gendry pushes the rest of his cock up into her, whilst helping her wrap her legs around his waist. 

"You destroyed other women for me Arya Stark. Only you. I'm yours completely." With each word he thrusts into her deeper and harder until he is entirely sheathed within her. 

"Mine," Arya growls into his ear and claims his mouth. Gendry grips her closer and no matter how deep he is, it isn't enough. She's not closer, or touching enough. Her hands roam his back, scratching along the way. He thrusts up harder and harder, making her scream his name as he grunts hers. Arya wraps her arms around his shoulders and tries to bounce on his cock, seeking release. Gendry reaches between them and rubs right there, furiously until she can't cry out anymore. Her entire body becomes taunt and her cunt grips him as she comes undone, "Gendry!"

"Arya."

He doesn't slip out in time but Arya is past the point of caring as Gendry spills his seed inside her with a roar. In the back of her head, a voice tells her that she'all have to go see a maester. She's unable to move as the last waves of pleasure come over her. Gendry gently lowers them to the floor and holds her close to him. They lay there, listening to each other's heavy breathing and beating hearts. Both their bodies are slick with sweat and his seed is dripping down her thighs but as long as he keeps holding her like that, it doesn't matter.   
"I will follow you to the ends of the world m'lady."  
She punches him in the arm and he chortles.  
"Do not call me m'lady!" 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think... I think it's finished. It was bloody exhausting. There were times when I hated it. I'm so proud of my baby. They grow up so fast. I don't think I could have predicted this ending. I kinda thought she'd end up with Aegon but the more research I did into his character, the more I realized I didn't like him and to stay true to his character, I knew he'd have to try and over throw Dany. Well guys thank you so much for reading and all the Kudos. I hope you guys enjoyed reading it, if you didn't - sorry. :)


End file.
